Having
been employed so long by the French Government, I had formed the
absurd idea that the future depended on my getting, not exactly a
similar connection with Scotland Yard, but at least a subordinate
position on the police force which would enable me to prove my
capabilities, and lead to promotion. I had no knowledge, at that time,
of the immense income which awaited me entirely outside the Government
circle. Whether it is contempt for the foreigner, as has often been
stated, or that native stolidity which spells complacency, the British
official of any class rarely thinks it worth his while to discover the
real cause of things in France, or Germany, or Russia, but plods
heavily on from one mistake to another. Take, for example, those
periodical outbursts of hatred against England which appear in the
Continental Press. They create a dangerous international situation,
and more than once have brought Britain to the verge of a serious war.
Britain sternly spends millions in defence and preparation, whereas,
if she would place in my hand half a million pounds I would guarantee
to cause Britannia to be proclaimed an angel with white wings in every
European country.
When I attempted to arrive at some connection with Scotland Yard, I
was invariably asked for my credentials.
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