Undoubtedly spying would be an intensely interesting sport even if no
great results were obtainable from it. There is a fascination which
gets hold of anyone who has tried the art. Each day brings fresh
situations and conditions requiring quick change of action and
originality to meet them.
Here are a few instances from actual experiences. None of these are
anything out of the common, but are merely the everyday doings of the
average agent, but they may best explain the sporting value of the
work.
One of the attractive features of the life of a spy is that he has,
on occasion, to be a veritable Sherlock Holmes. He has to notice the
smallest of details, points which would probably escape the untrained
eye, and then he has to put this and that together and deduce a
meaning from them.
I remember once when carrying out a secret reconnaissance in South
Africa I came across a farmhouse from which the owner was absent at
the moment of my arrival. I had come far and would have still further
to go before I came across any habitation, and I was hard up for a
lodging for the night.
After off-saddling and knee-haltering my horse, I looked into the
various rooms to see what sort of a man was the inhabitant. It needed
only a glance into his bedroom in this ramshackle hut to see that he
was one of the right sort, for there, in a glass on the window-sill,
were two tooth-brushes.
I argued that he was an Englishman and of cleanly habits, and would do
for me as a host--and I was not mistaken in the result!