Now that I had the invisible ink and the codes, I realized that it was dangerous for me to remain in Spain. At first I thought of going to the British embassy in Madrid and showing them my new acquisitions to prove to them how wrong they had been to brush me off, for I had no doubt whatsoever that these secret items would make it absolutely clear to the British that I had a valuable contribution to the democratic cause.
But I was afraid of meeting someone I knew at the embassy where so many staff were Spaniards.
In July 1941 I left Spain for Portugal, temporarily renting a room in Cascais from a poor fisherman and his wife. Later I moved to a house in Estoril so that I could be more independent but kept moving around so that I could not be traced, for it should not be forgotten that in those days Lisbon was the nerve centre for European espionage and counter-espionage.
Taking the most careful precautions, I now tried to contact the British again through their Lisbon embassy.
All my attempts to hand over my valuable new acquisitions, my ink and my codes, failed; I was quite unable to reach anyone of importance whom I felt I could trust at the British embassy. I just could not understand why the British were so difficult when the Germans were so understanding and co-operative.
However, I have always had a stubborn streak: I was determined not to give up but to continue my bizarre form of espionage on my own; perhaps things would eventually change for the better.