He had been seen at an observation post, and was making enquiries which aroused suspicions.

This of course made me more sorry than ever that I had allowed the spy to get through my fingers.

Like the man the French police were after, the officer was fair, had a light moustache and was of good size and heavily built.
My adventures with my friend did not end there.

When we had left Festubert and got to the neighbourhood of Bethune, I took two young privates one day to have lunch with me in a French hotel near the Square.

We were just beginning our meal when to my astonishment the suspected spy, accompanied by a French interpreter, sat down at an opposite table.