urveillance. Whether it was
the fact of being so much alone, or due perhaps to an unfortunately
English-like appearance, I do not know. At all events, the long arm of
the Secret Service continuously cast a shadow over my shoulder: I
even became suspicious of myself.

For one who has not been through the experience it is difficult to
appreciate the strain of such constant, unending suspicion. On July
17,1912, I stood beside the body of Herman Rosenthal, the gambler,
as it lay in the coffin in the parlor of his house in the Tenderloin. My
newspaper had sent me to "cover" the funeral, and I managed,
because of some previous knowledge of the household, and by
giving the impression of a mourner, to gain access. The murderers
had not yet been caught. Because the public knew nothing of "Lefty"
Louie, or "Gyp the Blood," or even of the late Lieutenant Becker, it
was common gossip that the criminals lurked in the neighborhood,
and that, in order to avoid suspicion, they would appear among the
chief mourners. Therefore, each eye was turned against its neighbor,
and each man, as he passed you, asked the silent question,--"Did
you shoot Herman Rosenthal?" During all the months on the
Continent, and particularly in Germany, I felt myself at Rosenthal's
funeral.

To a greater or less degree other correspondents had similar
experiences. I must mention one or two of them, in spite of the fact
that they may dim the importance of my own adventures. There was
Swing, of Chicago, German by relationship and sympathy, who
championed the Kaiser's cause and in his dispatches blew the
Teuton horn in the Middle West of America. Swing was given
exceptional privileges, including a typewriter and telephone near the
Foreign Office. Yet Swing himself was constantly shadowed, and it is
a fact that every time he used the telephone (and he was never
permitted to speak in English) a Secret Service agent cut in on the
wire to listen to the conversation.

An anecdote which I have heard in connection with the same
correspondent, although I do not vouch for its accuracy, shows that
"keeping the lid" on newspaper men had its humorous side. It
likewise indicates the initiative and aggressiveness of many American
correspondents, who, as a rule, went right ahead in the face of
military regulations, in some cases risking their lives, and in almost
every case refusing to be "bluffed out," even where the threatened
penalty was death. Swing had made