They were the maids who cleaned your room and took a look-see at your writing desk, telling things they should not know to people who should not hear them. They were the resentful minister, scorned by his betters and drowning his sorrows at the tavern and telling his woes to whatever lout would care to listen. Almost all of them did not know they were being used as spies. Half of espionage was finding these ‘useful idiots’ and either utilising them, or making them no longer useful, one way or another.