Captain Ladoux would later write an account of his first meeting with Mata Hari in his memoris, Le Chasseur d'Espions. There is much in it that is false, but the general feeling of their encounter seems accurate enough. It was a warm day, and he saw her first in the corridor. He offered her a chair in his office, which was small and shabby, with ranks of green cabinets against one wall. The light was poor and the window looked out to a barren street.

Ladoux, a thin man with a narrow face and hollow eyes, initially struck her as an inconsequential clerk. Later she would remember him as a fox or some other thoroughly distasteful creature.

"Tell me, madame, he said, "do you have any idea why you are here?"

She laid the application on the desk. "To process this shred of inconvenience, monsieur."

He lit a cigarette, a foul North African blend. "Actually, I'm afraid it's a bit more complex than all that. You see, Vittel is clearly out of bounds for enemies of the Republic."

She shifted her gaze to the one window. "I'm afraid I fail to see the point, captain."

"The point is, are you an enemy of the Republic?"

"I shouldn't think so."

"Ah, but the British seem to think so."

"What are you talking about?"

There were one or two stray papers on his desk: visible fragments of telegrams, a typewritten list of names.

"Tell me about your relationship with Jean Hallaure," he said.

She shrugged. "He's a friend, and I really don't see what—"

"And Thomas Merrick?"

She had been watching his hands: the cigarette in his left like a peashooter, a fountain pen in his right like a tiny rifle.

"Who are you, captain?"

"A soldier."

"Then, soldier, why aren't you fighting the war?"

"Oh, but I am. Every minute of the day."

"And am I truly one of your enemies?"

He smiled, revealing a speck of tobacco on a tooth. "I don't think so, no."

"Then why won't you allow me to visit my fiancé?"

"Ah, so Merrick is your finance?"

"Well, we've discussed marriage."

"And may I ask when the wedding is to be held?"

"We haven't set a date."

"But it won't be long, yes? Perhaps just as soon as he recovers from his wounds?" He got up from his desk, moving to the window. "I shall be candid with you, madame. My British colleagues seem to feel that you're a potentially dangerous woman—please, let me finish. Now I don't actually hold that opinion, but it's necessary to at least investigate their claims. Hence you are here. Hence we are talking."

She continued to watch his hands for a moment, then withdrew a handkerchief to absorb the perspiration on her own. "Yes, but what are we really talking about?"

"Loyalty. We are talking about loyalty to France. Tell me, how long have you lived in Paris?"

"A long time."