Graham Greene by The Spy's Bedside Book

officer, called on me this morning in the Boulevard Malesherbes to give me an account of a very delicate mission which he has just completed in Italy.
    He is a most original character. He is sixty-five years old, very alert, spick and span, very well-dressed, always has a flower in his buttonhole, has been very fond of women and is still able to please them, and adores intrigue, adventure, and nosing about. In 1891 he was pointed out, or rather handed over, to us by the Prefect of Police, Lozé, who recognised his astonishing skill in worming his way into the most varied environments and eliciting information; for the rest, he is a decent enough chap. Nisard and I always refer to him as “Casanova” or “M. de Seingalt”. He was in good form today, because he had had good hunting in a certain Roman
palazzo.
    MAURICE PALEOLOGUE

28. FOREIGN TRAVEL
    ond unfastened his seat-belt and lit a cigarette. He reached for the slim, expensive-looking attaché case on the floor beside him and took out
The Mask of Dimitrios
by Eric Ambler, and put the case, which was very heavy in spite of its size, on the seat beside him …
    Q Branch had put together this smart-looking little bag, ripping out the careful handiwork of Swaine and Adeney to pack fifty rounds of .25 ammunition, in two flat rows, between the leather and the lining of the spine. In each of the innocent sides there was a flat throwing knife, built by Wilkinsons, the sword makers, and the tops of their handles were concealed cleverly by the stitching at the corners. Despite Bond’s efforts to laugh them out of it, Q’s craftsmen had insisted on building a hidden compartment into the handle of the case, which, by pressure at a certain point, would deliver a cyanide death-pill into the palm of his hand … More important was the thick tube of Palmolive shaving cream in the otherwise guileless sponge bag. The whole top of this unscrewed to reveal the silencer for the Beretta, packed in cotton wool. In case hard cash was needed, the lid of the attaché case contained fifty golden sovereigns. These could be poured out by slipping sideways one ridge of welting.
    IAN FLEMING
    â€¢
    Whenever I was on missions abroad I was under standing orders to have an artificial tooth inserted which contained enough poison to kill me within thirty seconds if I were captured by an enemy. To make doubly sure, I wore a signet-ring in which, under a large blue stone, a gold capsule was hidden containing cyanide.
    WALTER SCHELLENBERG,
    HEAD OF THE FOREIGN DEPARTMENT OF THE GERMAN
SECRET SERVICE

29. SEEX FAT ENGLISH PIGS
    Scene:
The private sitting-room of the Wave Crest Hotel, on the South Coast, September 1914.
    Fräulein:
Accident, or no accident, I like not the way that things are going. You have a telegram from Carl. What says he of tonight?
    Mrs Sanderson:
The troops are coming through. The emergency signal must be given.
    Fräulein:
At what hour?
    Mrs Sanderson:
It must be plainly seen at the first hour of the morning.
    Fritz:
De house?—it purns tonighd?
    Mrs Sanderson:
Yes.
    Fritz:
Oh, dat ees fine! Seex fat English pigs roast in deir peds!—Undt de spy—how he vill crackle! (
He snaps his fingers illustratively.
)
    Mrs Sanderson:
No, no, Fritz, don’t! (She
shudders and turns aside to the fireplace.
) Oh, it’s too horrible! Is there no other signal we can give?
    Fräulein:
None. It is necessary for our safety and for the success of our plans that nobody but those to whom we send it shall ever guess the signal is a signal. It must be natural—and what more natural than that a house catch fire? It happens every day in every place. It is simple; it is sure; it is safe.
    Mrs Sanderson:
But, surely, there is some warning we can give the others?
    Fräulein:
After what has happened? It would be madness! Why should you mind? They are your enemies. And—think!—if this signal should miscarry it is the sons of the