A Secret Service by Fred M. White — Read

Coffee, liqueurs, and cigarettes had been handed round, and Sir Walter Devant's guests were lounging carelessly at the perfectly appointed dinner-table. It was not a formal party, and the meal had been laid out in one of the morning-rooms of the British Embassy in Berlin. From the point of view of popular fiction, Sir Walter was not a great Ambassador. He had few of those subtle qualities which people like to read about: it had never been his mission to make history, and he had few dramatic triumphs to his credit. There was nothing mysterious or sinister about him; he was a plain, hearty, commonsense Englishman, who played his cards openly and straightforwardly--but he knew every move of the game, nevertheless. The underground wire-pulling and the network of intrigue, without which successful diplomacy is impossible, he was content to leave to his subordinate.

In his day he had been a noted sportsman; he was still a fine fisherman and shot, and if his appointment had been, as critics said at the time, a "job," few of them now declined to believe that Walter Devant was a success. To begin with, he entertained royalty, for he was a man of means, and Lady Devant was one of the most popular figures in European society.