There is a wearisome formality known as “legalising” which took up much time at the Berlin Embassy.  Commercial agreements, if they are to be binding in two countries, say Germany and England, have to be “legalised,” and this must be done at the Embassy, not at the Consulate.  The individual bringing the document has to make a sworn affidavit that the contents of his papers are true; he then signs it, the dry-seal of the Embassy is embossed on it, and a rubber stamp impressed, declaring that the affidavit has been duly sworn to before a member of the Embassy staff.  This is then signed and dated, and the process is complete.  There were strings of people daily in Berlin with documents to be legalised, and on a little shelf in the Chancery reposed an Authorized Version of the Bible, a German Bible, a Vulgate version of the Gospels in Latin, and a Pentateuch in Hebrew, for the purpose of administering the oath, according to the religion professed by the individual.  I was duly instructed how to administer the oath in German, and was told that my first question must be as to the religion the applicant professed, and that I was then to choose my Book accordingly.  My great friend at Berlin was my fellow-attache Maude, a most delightful little fellow, who was universally popular.  Poor Maude, who was a near relation of Mr. Cyril Maude the actor’s, died four years afterwards in China.  Most of the applicants for legalisation were of one particular faith.  I admired the way in which little Maude, without putting the usual question as to religion, would scan the features of the applicant closely and then hand him the Hebrew Pentateuch, and request him to put on his hat. (Jews are always sworn covered.) About a month after my arrival in Berlin, I was alone in the Chancery when a man arrived with a document for legalisation.  I was only twenty at the time, and felt rather “bucked” at administering my first oath.  I thought that I would copy little Maude’s methods, and after a good look at my visitor’s prominent features, I handed him the Pentateuch and requested him to put on his hat.  He was perfectly furious, and declared that both he and his father had been pillars of the Lutheran Church all their lives.  I apologised profusely, but all the same I am convinced that the original family seat had been situated in the valley of the Jordan.  I avoided, however, guesses as to religions for the future.

Both at Berlin and at Petrograd I kept what are known as the “Extraordinary Accounts” of the Embassies.  I am therefore in a position to give the exact amount spent on Secret Service, but I have not the faintest intention of doing anything of the sort.  Suffice it to say that it is less than one-twentieth of the sum the average person would imagine.  Bought information is nearly always unreliable information.  A moment’s consideration will show that, should a man be base enough to sell his country’s secrets to his country’s possible enemy, he would also unhesitatingly cheat,