Judge — May 1938 — page 21: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

DOWN MEMORY LANE H, GAY, gay old Vienna — the heady, intoxicating scenes of my youth—the splendor and dash of glitter. ing uniforms and stately ladies whirling past at glamorous court balls in the old Hofburg—to think that they are gone forever! My mind pauses to comb that limbo of almost forgotten grandeur. Can I forget intimate little evenings over rancid, rancid coffee in August's Kaffee- Blatsch, or moonlit evenings with Lili, paddling dreamily on the Danube in my scow, the Emma B. Umlaut 11? No, the whole scene tears at my heartstrings. Gay old Wien! I was eight at the time. Softly times out of mind return, like Mack trucks on a steep grade. Once again I am back in the brilliantly lighted ball room at Schénnbrunn, spinning to the giddy strains of a Viennese waltz, played by the Public School 42 Girl's Symphony Orchestra. They are playing the chorus for the sixth time, because the last page of the music is missing, but small matter. To hold Lili Chiropody in my arms once more, to feel the wild excited pulsing of her heart next to mine, to see the reflection of the chandelier in her glass eye— yes, little cared I in my youthful ecstasy that my lady was a Hungarian spy, a woman of mystery who would vanish for hours and days at a time, leaving only a few wet stockings in the bathtub. This particular night is seared in my memory for all eternity. Lili and I were dancing and her eyes glis- tened as I discussed the plans for the new fortifica- tions. It was a subject fraught with danger — an evening fraught with peril— and Lili was taking down every word on a small type writer which she balanced on my shoulder. She got ten krone a word, although of course, the Guild rate was higher. I remember that I was dressed as an officer of Zouaves, whatever they are, since it was 2 fancy dress May, 1958 By Oliver Jensen ball. Actually, of course, everybody knew that I was Horatio Underdone, the English agent, and with’ native British modesty I would just swing my cricket bat and allow as it was so. My Eton training had not failed to breed in me the finest traditions of the British aris- tocracy, and I never explained to any man that I was better than he, face to face. The music stopped, I think, or else Lili broke her typewriter, and we sat down at a nearby table and had a café au lait. The lait being pretty sour, Lili became rather unpleasant and I began to converse with our tablemates, Ivan Spearminsk and Petrov Doubleminsk, spies for Uzbekistan and Azerbaijan re- spectively, who that evening were dis- guised as each other. Nobody molested any of us spies in those days, for every- thing was based on the affable doctrine of “spy and let spy.” Lili, being a lady, was naturally safe from all interference by the gentlemanly Austrians, and al- “AND ON OUR HONEYMOON WE'LL GO TO AMERICA AND SEE ALL THE FACTORIES!” though Spearminsk and Doubleminsk were undoubtedly dangerous men, no- body could ever tell them apart or locate their native lands, I seem to remember waving at Cap- tain Sir Reginald Beastly.Waffington, the British Consul, who sent me a note explaining that he was going to put a bit of arsenic in doddering old Franz Josef's burgundy, “just to chaff the old boy a bit.” At this moment, for a reason I have never been able to learn, Lili pulled a small bomb from beneath her tunic, and with a low exclamation threw it at the Empress. After a group of amazingly efficient lackeys had cleaned the last fragments of the Empress from the floor and chandeliers the dancing was re- sumed. The Emperor joined us at our table for a round of burgundy and re- monstrated with Lili, who seemed deeply affected by his interest. Asking for the ladies’ smoking room, she left hurriedly and was never seen again, except when she won a 4H Club contest in Indiana in 1931, under an assumed name. I must not forget to state that after the gay, gay dance was over the whole crowd took an express trolley to El Chiclet, the Viennese night spot. I understand that Reg- gie Beastly-Waffington tried to do in the aged Emperor, but that the latter laugh. ingly shot him between the eyes. At any rate I do recall the evening was a very prof- itable one, and that I got enough for my secret dis- patches to take a vacation on the Riviera and get pro- moted from National to In- ternational Spy. There I met Ahmed El Loup, who—ah, but that is another story... Anyway, the War did not break out that year, since we had forgotten an incident. I am sure that you will be interested in these vivid rec- ollections of an old retired spy. Somehow —I shall never know just how—the franc was saved. 17 comicbooks.com