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sexual matters is a fact of history. Perhaps the Duke was actually taking a moral stance on this occasion as a matter of principle. To do otherwise, to humiliate the woman he loved might have seemed to him the most contemptible thing he could imagine.”
    “When he was serving with the British Military Mission in France in what was meant to be a dead-end job, he managed to make several tours of the Maginot Line.” Heydrich opened the file. “There is a copy here of a letter sent to the War Office by Major General Vyse. He gives details of a report by the Duke after an inspection of the French First Army and summarizes it as follows:
    a. There is little attempt at concealment.
    b. The revetment of the antitank ditches is weak. Other antitank obstacles do not seem to be adequate.
    c. Wiring against infantry, coincides on location with antitank obstacles so that the same bombardment would destroy both.
    d. Antitank crews seem insufficiently trained.
    e. Work does not seem to be carried out intensively and very few troops were seen.
    “You see?” Heydrich said. “Every evidence of a first-class military mind. Anyway, take it away. Go through the whole file. Get to know the man and then at least you'll know what you're talking about.”
    “You wish me to take on this task?”
    “I'm not certain. I'll let you know this evening. In the meantime, do me the usual departmental report. Everything Ribbentrop said. I want it all down on paper.”
    When Schellenberg reached his own office he called in Frau Huber, Heydrich's confidential secretary. She was thirty-eight, a sensual, rather fleshy-looking woman with no make-up, her hair pulled back from her face in a tight bun. She was a war widow already; her husband, a Sturmscharführer in the Leibstandarts SS Division, had been killed during the French campaign. In her simple white blouse and skirt, she was surprisingly attractive.
    Schellenberg quickly dictated an account of his meeting with Ribbentrop. “As soon as possible, please.”
    She went out and he opened the Windsor file and started to work his way through it. It didn't take long, just under half an hour. As he finished, Frau Huber returned with the completed report. He checked it over and signed it.
    “The usual copies?” she asked.
    “Yes, one for the Reichsführer, one for me, and one for the file.”
    She went out. He sat there frowning for a moment, then picked up the phone and asked for Admiral Canaris at Abwehr Headquarters on the Tirpitz Ufer.
    The Admiral, it seemed, was not available. Schellenberg smiled. That probably meant that, as it was Thursday afternoon, Canaris would be riding in the Tiergarten. He picked up the telephone, ordered a car, and left quickly.
    When Frau Huber went into the copying room, there was only a middle-aged woman on duty who was unfamiliar to her.
    “Who are you?” she demanded.
    “Irene Neumann. I usually work in Central Office.”
    “I see. Run this through the machine now. Three copies. One for the boss, one for General Schellenberg, and one for me. I'll wait.”
    The other woman set the machine up quickly. For your eyes only — most secret. She took in that much and then the phrase Duke of Windsor seemed to jump right out at her.
    Frau Huber lit a cigarette and paced about the room restlessly. “Hurry up, for God's sake.”
    As the machine started, the phone rang in her office and she hurried to answer it. It was a routine matter taking only three or four minutes to handle. As she finished writing a memo, there was a nervous cough and she turned and found Irene Neumann standing there.
    “Three copies, you said, Frau Huber?”
    “All right. Put them on the desk.”
    The other woman did as she was told and went out. Back in the copying room she closed the door carefully, then opened a drawer and took out the extra copy of the Windsor report that she had made. She folded it carefully, raised her skirt, and slipped it inside the top of her stocking.
    A moment later, the