She gave him a sigh and said that she liked them less today than usual... Politically, she said that she had never given much thought to the Germans until the spring of 1914. Then, and of her own free will, she wrote a lengthy letter to Adolphe Messimy, the French war minister, advising him of certain disturbing rumors she had heard while in Berlin.

"And exactly what was the nature of those rumors?" Bouchardon asked.

"War," she replied. "The nature of those rumors was war . . ."

"So you were acting as a spy on behalf of France even before the outbreak of hostilities. Is that correct?"

"I wouldn't say that I was acting as a spy, captain. Rather I would simply say that Monsieur Messimy is an old friend, and I was acting as a concerned citizen of the Republic."

"But you are not a citizen of the Republic, madame. You are the citizen of a neutral country that has been profitably selling bullets to the belligerents."

"Very well, then, I was acting as a woman who preferred peace to war, who cared about peace ..."

Describing her later adventures with the Germans in Madrid, it seemed she had come to believe her early fantasies. She said that she had had to use all her wits to outsmart her opponents, as well as a bit of feminine cunning. Despite an apparently simple demeanor, Major von Kalle had actually proved to be a very clever sparring partner. Twice in conversation he had nearly tripped her up . . . all while her hand lay only inches away from a pistol in his desk.

"And precisely how did you know that the major kept a weapon in his desk, madame?"

"From the look in his eyes, captain. I sensed it from the look in his eyes."

"Remarkable. And you still continued to engage him in a dangerous game of cat and mouse, with a pistol so close."

"My reputation depended on it. My mission. I also knew he possessed important information about the German submarine offensive and I was determined to get that information—"

"And did you?"

"I believe if you read the report that I sent to Captain Ladoux the answer to that question would be apparent."

"Oh, but I have read the report, madame, and I must tell you that your information was worthless—nothing that couldn't have been fabricated from any German newspaper."

"Well, perhaps you should read it again, captain."

"No, I really don't think so."

That afternoon she was transferred to a cell in another section of the prison, at the corner of the rue du Faubourg Saint-Denis and the boulevard Magenta. Locally known as the ménagérie, the whole cellblock had been specifically allocated to spies. Conditions were abysmal. The corridors were infested with rats, the pallets with lice. The cell was bitterly cold, with drafts through the apertures. The food was bearable, but she was actually expected to pay for it.