In which Our Hero faces Adversity attempting to capture a German Spy.


Willie fidgeted and had to prevent himself from leaning against the soot-covered wall of the building behind him. He had his doubts about this operation. For all that the Diogenes Club possessed extra-governmental powers, Willie's boss, M, felt that for a public arrest the Metropolitan Police should be used. Willie could see the validity of the argument, as it wouldn't be much of a secret organization if the members went around shouting "Diogenes Club!" as a source of authority. Willie was supposed to be present solely as an observer. From his observations, he felt this was unlikely to go well. Sighing, he noted that the Bobby pretending to sell newspapers on the corner was wearing regulation boots.

A man wearing a wool greatcoat with the collar turned out brushed by Willie and went into the bookstore. Trying for an aimless pose, Willie followed in time to see the man pause at the policeman badly posing as a bookseller.

"Are you the guy looking for the German book?" the faux retailer accused. Willie wanted to groan. The would-be customer began to back up slowly, then turned and ran for the exit. Willie tried to grab him, and found himself being pushed into the door. They wrestled for a moment, the spy trying to reach the door handle as Willie tried to achieve some kind of hold. Willie failed, ruing for once his preference for fencing over wrestling, and the man pushed open the door. Losing his balance, Willie reached out and grabbed the collar of the greatcoat. Both men slipped and fell on the dark slush. The weather seemed to have gotten even worse than it was before, as he could no longer see the undercover detective who had been lurking outside. Willie lunged as the spy tried to scramble away, sending both men sliding. "Gotcha!" Willie cried, now managing a firm two-handed hold on the greatcoat. Panicked, the spy tore the buttons trying to get the coat off, and pulled free. Willie was about to drop the coat and try again when a hand grabbed him from behind.

"You're nicked, chum!"

"Not me, you idiot!" he shouted at the detective. "Get the man who's running away!" Willie couldn't help adding "And who actually says 'you're nicked' – learn some new cliché, why don't you?" The evident spy began to vanish into the thick London fog. "Aren't you going to at least go after that man?" Willie asked.

"After who? You're the guy, right?"

It was hard, but Willie managed not to scream in frustration.


Some time later found Willie standing before the fat man's desk.

"I see the police were even more inept than expected. At least they did not detain you overlong." Willie expressed some surprise at this factual pronouncement by his boss. M deigned to explain. "You clearly aren't reporting a complete success, and the bruises you seem to have acquired are from at least two hands. Since our spy is working alone, and I calculate it unlikely you were robbed, since I can see you still have your wallet and watch, clearly the only conclusion is the police somehow grabbed you."

"Yes, the idiots did." Willie filled in the details. His boss visibly repressed a sigh.

"I must have a word with the Home Secretary. I had expected they would send Inspector Baynes, Gregson or even Lestrade, simple but reliable men for whom this operation would be within the realm of their competence. It seems they did not send anyone from Scotland Yard at all."

"An Inspector Youghal did turn up, and persuaded the oaf in official boots to let me go," Wille said. "I told them I was a chance bystander. I'm a bloody Montverre, they ought to respect that!"

"And so they should." The corpulent man's eyes, which were of a peculiarly light, watery grey, turned an introspective look to the coat slung under Willie's arm. "You managed to get something from our spy, then. Did you examine it?"

"Not particularly. I had enough trouble just getting it out of Scotland Yard's clutches." Willie grinned. "I think they thought it was mine. Although it's neither my size nor style."

"Quite so. Examine it now, if you would."

Willie put the coat down on his superior's desk. It produced an odd paper rustle. Willie checked the pockets. "Nothing here… but I felt something.." He ran his fingers along the coat seem. Willie reached into his pocket, opened his penknife, and sliced the stitching open. He reached in and pulled out some folded pages.

"Interesting," M said, leaning forward. "Our missing plans are complete at last." Willie counted the pages.

"They do all seem to be here. It's possible they were copied."

"Possible but unlikely. There are no pin-holes for tracing paper."

"The Montverre honor is saved," Willie said with evident relief.

"Quite so, my boy. You've done well. Take these pages with you and return them to your father. You can return to your previous job for now, but you won't be there long. You've an evident aptitude for this service, and it shall be honed."

"Thank you, sir."