The Spy Who - The Spy Who Betrayed the American Revolution | The Traitor and The Gentleman | 3

Episode Date: July 2, 2026

With the French now helping the U.S. in its fight for independence, the tide’s turned against Britain. But disillusioned American hero Benedict Arnold is about to help the British Empire strike back.See Privacy Policy at https://art19.com/privacy and California Privacy Notice at https://art19.com/privacy#do-not-sell-my-info.

Audible subscribers can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who, add free right now. Join Audible today by downloading the Audible app. May 1779, British-controlled New York. In his office, John Andre sits at his desk, pouring over military reports. It's nearly a year since he and the rest of the British Army left Philadelphia to reinforce New York against French attack. Since then, he has been promoted to make it. and assigned a new role as head of intelligence.

Enter. Joseph Stansbury walks in. He's a Philadelphia merchant, loyal to the king, who uses his trading activity to travel the colonies, gathering intelligence for Britain. Ah, Stansbury. What news from Philadelphia? Stanbury is soaked through from the rain,

but makes no effort to remove his coat or hat. It's clear he's got something important to share. Major, do you remember? I remember Peggy Shippen from Philadelphia? Yes, of course. How could I forget her? Stansbury reaches into his coat and holds out two letters. I was asked to check if you remember her fondly, and if so, to give you these.

Andre holds the letters suspiciously. Why would Peggy Shippen, the high-class coquette with whom he had a flirtatious friendship back in Philadelphia, be writing to him now? and why use Stansbury as a go-between. Stansbury, what's this about? If you have information, I need to know. It concerns the defection of a high-ranking American officer, someone close to General Washington's inner circle. Who?

Stansbury looks around nervously, though it's only the two of them in the room. Benedict Arnold. What? Can't be. He's one of their finest commanders. Despite the fact, he's an enemy general. Arnold is held in high esteem among the British officer class.

There's no denying his skill and courage in battle. But the thought that he would betray the Patriot cause is almost incomprehensible to Andre. It's impossible. Why would Peggy, of all people, be writing to me about this? Because the lady you knew as Peggy Shippen is now Peggy Arnold. They married last month. She told Arnold you were a gentleman, someone he could trust. André's head spins.

If this is true and Arnold wants to defect, it could change the course of the war. But what if it's a trap? A decoy set by George Washington himself. Andre knows that the outcome of the war, and maybe even the future of the British Empire, could turn on his next move. I heard a rumor that the CIA poisoned my granddad. Gordon Banks, the world's number one goalkeeper. It happened in Mexico, supposedly, at the World Cup in 1970. Sounds crazy? I'm an investigative journalist on the hunt for evidence.

We needed to do some extraordinary things to counter the audience. This is foul play, an unbelievable tale of sports, spies and family secrets. Listen now wherever you get your podcasts, or early and ad-free on Audible. I'm Razzie Jaffrey, and this is The Spy Who, an Audible original. In the last episode, American spymaster Benjamin Talmudge formed the Culper spy ring to watch the British in New York. Meanwhile, in Philadelphia, Society Beauty Peggy Shippon married American hero Benedict Arnold. But, after being slighted and shamed by his opponents in Congress, Arnold's reached a fateful decision. He will betray the patriot cause and spy for the king.

This is the spy who betrayed the American Revolution. Episode 3, The Trater and the Gentleman. Two weeks after Peggy's letter reached John Andre, May 1779, Philadelphia. Peggy knocks on the door of her husband's study before pushing it open. She sees Benedict Arnold hunched over a letter and a large book. He's so engrossed in concentration, he barely registers her entrance. Is everything all right? He didn't come down for supper.

Arnold looks up. Your friend Major Andre has written back. But in code, in case people read our messages and I can barely make sense of it. Let me look. Maybe I can help. Several hours later, Peggy and Arnold finally decipher Andre's code. Now, Peggy watches Arnold as he paces the room.

I told you you could trust Major Andre. They know what you can do for them. They see your value. But in doing this, we are risking everything. I need to offer them something so valuable that they'll have to pay what I ask. They're not thinking big enough. Peggy's eyes widen. Andre's asked Arnold to seek command of a major fort in the Carolinas

and then surrender it to Britain. The British believe that the southern colonies are more loyal to the crown and that a victory there could split the rebellion. Isn't a fort enough? Not the kind they're asking for. I must offer them something irreplaceable, something that could hand them victory. Arnold stops pacing,

eyes widening as inspiration hits. He hurries to the large map of North America that hangs on the wall and points to a fort north of New York City on the Hudson River. West Point. I could get General Washington to appoint me the commander there. If I hand West Point to the British, they will be able to isolate New England from the rest of the colonies. It will be the death knell for the whole continental army? Will Washington give you the command?

He's refused you before. Arnold jesters around at the room they're in, with its wood panelling, stately desk and oil paintings. Washington knows that this posting in Philadelphia has been bad for me. All this luxury. I'm no good at peace, Peggy, I'm a soldier. Washington will understand that commanding a fort is the right place for me. But if you get caught, Peggy, the British don't trust me yet. I need to offer them something so big they can't refuse.

And for West Point, no pay. 14 months later, July 1780, New Jersey. In a continental army encampment, American spy master Benjamin Talmadge sprints towards General Washington's commanding. The two centuries stationed outside snapped to attention and step aside. Inside, Washington is meeting with the army's quartermaster. He looks irritated at the interruption. General, apologies, I have urgent news. It can't wait. Washington nods at the quartermaster, who exits the tent.

Once he's out of ear shot, Talmud approaches Washington. Reports from New York, sir. The British know that the French fleet is on its way. They plan to attack in force before it lands. they hope to wipe the fleet out before it can establish a beachhead. Good heavens. Alarm flickers on Washington's face. French support has been crucial in turning the tide of the war. If the British destroy the French fleet, it would be catastrophic. Does this information come from Culper?

Talmud's spy ring in New York City, codename Culper, has grown from one agent to a network of operatives throughout the city and Long Island. It's now Washington's most trusted source of intelligence. Yes, no, sir. Will we march to intercept the British before they can attack? No. We don't know where the French will actually land.

Neither do the British. We could end up simply chasing them up and down the coast and arrived too late. What we need is a deception. We need to make them think that we're planning a large attack on New York. They won't dare leave the city undefended. It's their key strongholds where all their supplies come in from England. We have to keep the pinned down in Manhattan. Washington fixes Talmuch with a piercing stare

and a wry smile. I think this might just be another job for you and the culpers. Later that evening, one of Talmud's agents hurries along a dirt road near New York. He carries a leather bag over his shoulder, fighting his exhaustion to keep moving. This agent has spent the war posing as a British loyalist to maintain his cover. And this may be his most important mission yet. He sees a British checkpoint ahead. The red-coated soldiers spring up, muskets in hand. Halt! Stay at your business!

I'm loyal to the king. I only came to give you this. The agent drops his heavy leather bag in front of the soldiers, who regard it warily. What's this? Inside the bag are fake plans for a Patriot attack on New York. that Talmud and his team have spent the day frantically drafting.

I don't know, sir. I was walking down the road about five miles back and saw a continental officer riding by. It was riding like the devil. This back drops off the back of his saddle. I thought there might be some food or a bit of money, but then I see all these papers and I think these look important, best hand of it.

The soldier grabs a handful of the documents from the bag and looks them over. His eyes widen in shock as he registers what they are. Plans for a massive rebel assault on New York. Now, the fate of the French fleet depends on this soldier's commanders, also falling for the lie. A week later, Tamerj sits in a marshy cove on the Connecticut coast, peering through the fog that hangs over the Long Island Sound. He's waiting for Caleb Brewster, the culp aspiring's cook. to bring him urgent intelligence from New York.

Brewster's boat appears through the fog. Talmud leans into the water to help tie it to the morrow. The moment the boat is secure, Talmud grabs Brewster by the shoulders. What news from Manhattan? What are the British movements? Brewster smiles. The British are spooked. I saw it with my own eyes.

They boarded 8,000 troops onto ships and sailed off. Then only hours later, the emergency flares were lit, and the ships sailed back into harbour. There's rumours of an attack on New York. Talmadge's heart surges in a silent prayer of thanks. The ruse he and Washington cooked up to trick the British into staying in New York has worked. If he's bought the French forces time to land in America, they may have just saved the revolution from catastrophe.

Later that month, Manhattan. British spymaster John Andre stands across from General. General Sir Henry Clinton, the commander of the King's forces in America. They're in the army's headquarters, in a room strewn with documents and maps. Sir, I've had another message from General Arnold. He's managed to secure the command of the fort at West Point, and he's willing to hand it over to us. Last point?

Hmm. So he managed to convince Washington to give him the command. I almost didn't think he'd be able to. Arnold has spent months lobbying for the... the command of the strategically crucial fort on the Hudson River, while keeping his British contacts on tenterhooks. Clinton looks momentarily impressed, but then his expression darkens. And what does Arnold want in return for his treasury? He requests £20,000, sir. Clinton grimaces. It's an enormous sum, enough for Arnold to buy a large mansion in England and a seat in the

British Parliament. Clinton stares at the maps on his desk. Two weeks ago, French forces successfully landed at Rhode Island, offering the Americans crucial reinforcements. Clinton can't tear his eyes away from the new markers of the French positions. He rubs his temples in frustration, then looks up at André. Do it. Agree to his terms. We have no choice. Now that the French are assured we need a death blow. Without West Point, this blasted rebellion is finished. Tell him we accept his offer. Very good, sir. But if this is so crucial, perhaps I better handle this in person with Arnold, rather than by messenger. Clinton considers the idea. Then nods. Yes. Washington seems to have spies everywhere, and this Arnold is a sly one. Best you're able to look the man in the eye.

André salutes, feeling a wave of excitement that he may be about to deliver the death blow that will finally win the war for Britain. The following month, Arnold strides around the exterior perimeter of the fort at West Point. Around him, soldiers are building walls and constructing ramparts. Arnold has just taken command of the fort and is inspecting its defences. He walks fast, despite the limp from his wounded leg, issuing order. as he goes. That wall there.

It's not high enough. We need another six feet on that. Yes, sir. The subordinate officer at his side scribbles the order on the long list of commands he's holding, then runs to catch up with Arnold. Send 200 men upriver to gather firewood.

Also take one third of the fort's provisions and deliver it to my personal headquarters. The officer looks startled. Arnold's headquarters are on the other side of the river from the fort. Arnold catches the look. I am yet to be paid by Congress and have agreed to date provisions in view. Understood, sir.

But Arnold's lying. He's really moving soldiers and provisions out of West Point so that it will be unable to resist a siege. That way, when Arnold pretends to surrender the fort to the British, it will look like military necessity rather than treachery. As his subordinate officer notes the order, a messenger gallops up on a horse. Major General Arnold, sir. An urgent letter from General Washington. Arnold reads the note and freezes in shock. Washington is about to make a secret trip to New York

and will stop and inspect West Point himself. This is a golden opportunity. If Arnold can get the British to move fast, they could capture not just the fort, but Washington himself. This would mean the end of the American Revolution and Arnold would be hailed as a hero. of the British Empire. But it all depends on speed.

He needs to get a message to Andre. September 18th, 1780. Six weeks after Arnold's demand for 20,000 pounds to hand over West Point. In the luxurious home of a wealthy Manhattan merchant, candlelight flickers at a society's soire. In one corner sits John Andre, surrounded by a group of admiring ladies,

and among them is the daughter of a wealthy healthy New York family, who rarely misses a chance to mingle with the elite of the British officer class. But unknown to them, she's part of Benjamin Talmudge's culper spiring, known to General Washington only by the codename, Agent 355. At the other end of the table, the British commander General Sir Henry Clinton stands and calls for quiet. As you all know, we're gathered to give a send-off to Major Andre, who tomorrow leaves on a mission that could change the course of this war. John is as gallant a gentleman

as one could ever hope to meet, the model of an officer. And may we all wish him the best on this crucial operation. For King and Country. One of the ladies at André's side turns to him. So, Major Andre, he must tell us. What is this crucial mission?

It sounds so exciting. Agent 355 watches as Andre gives the lady a charming smile. Just a spot of business I need to take care of upriver. Something to give the rebels a scare. Agent 355 has been watching Andre for months. She can tell when he's trying to avoid giving an answer. This mission is obviously important.

She decides that she'll have to excuse herself soon. and get this information to Talmuch. Four nights later, Andre steadies himself on the deck of the HMS vulture. The British warship has carried him up the Hudson River towards the contested territory near Stony Point, New York. And now, Arnold has sent a small American rowboat under a flag of truce to bring him ashore. Andre stares down at the boat,

floating in the black water, and waiting to take him into rebel territory. Then he heaves himself over the railing and descends the rope ladder down to the American boat. As the boat nears the riverbank, Andre leaps out and strides up towards the glow of a lantern in which two men are illuminated. One steps forward and Andre extends his hand.

General Arnold? But instead of greeting him, something catches Arnold's eye under Andre's cloak. As you're wearing your uniform? I told my staff how was me to go. loyalist merchant named Anderson, not a damn British major. Sir, I'm behind enemy lines. If I was to be captured in uniform, I'd be treated like an officer. If I were in plain clothes, I'd be considered a spy and a hung. Arnold looks less than impressed, but motions Andre to follow him.

Several hours later, in a secluded safe house, Andre and Arnold pour over detailed maps of West Point, with Arnold explaining every gap in the fort's defences. Both men's heads snap around at the sound of artillery fire in the near distance. Was that a howitzer? Through the window, Andre sees streaks of grey and orange in the night sky. Dear God, it's past dawn, I need to return to my ship. Arnold begins folding the maps and blueprints of West Point, which Andre then stuffs inside his boot to keep hidden.

Andre's horse thunders towards the Hudson River, right behind Arnold and his edge. They pulled to a halt when they reach the bank. The boatman who brought Andre to shore runs over and salutes. General Arnold, sir. Some fellow patriots must have spotted your visitor's ship up river and open fire. She had to turn and sail away. In the distance, Andre can see the faint silhouette of the HMS vulture

sailing back towards British territory. He realizes he is now trapped, alone behind enemy lines. and wearing a British uniform. Arnold trots over, his face a mask of calm resolve. It's all right. You'll just have to wait through the day. Then tonight, Smith here can guide you back to the British lines. Arnold motions to the subordinate officer who serves as his aid.

Then he pulls out paper and a quill pen, scribbles something down and hands it to Andre. I need to get back to West Point before my head. absence raises questions. But this is a personal letter of safe passage. Show this to any patriot who crosses your path and they'll let you pass. That evening, Andre gazes out of the window of the safe house where he's been laying low all day. He opens the door to see Smith, General Arnold's aide. He enters and throws a cloth bundle down on the table. I plotted our route to get you back to the British lines, but you'd attract far too much attention in that

red coat, changing to these for the journey. Smith motions to the bundle of clothes lying on the table. Andre shudders the thought of changing out of his uniform, but alone as he is, he doesn't see a choice, and begins removing his regimental attire, taking care to replace the plans that Arnold gave him back into his boots. Andre and Smith have been travelling all night, but now with the sunrise, Smith slows his horse to a halt and points into the distance. We're in neutral territory now. There's a British camp a few miles down the river. But it's better for me not to be seen with you.

You'll be all right from here. Andre feels unease about continuing alone, but she can hardly insist. He salutes Smith and turns his horse towards the British tents that are barely visible in the distance. About two hours later, Andre guides his horse along the riverside. It's now daylight, but he's already halfway to the British camp.

Suddenly, three men leap out of the underbrush. Muskets raised. Whoa there! Stop your horse. What's your business? Andre feels a flood of relief. One of the men is wearing a faded, torn British military coat. I'm Major Andre, a British officer returning to camp. I need an escort to take me to General Clinton.

The men's expressions harden as they cocked their guns. Oh, you're a British officer, are you? Well, we're all patriots. I just pinch this coat escaping from one of your prisons. Now, why don't you come down from that horse so we can see what you've got for us? Andre doesn't know if these men are American soldiers or simply bandits, but he has no choice but to dismount.

Then he remembers the letter that Arnold gave him. He removes it from his coat and offers it to the men. If you're patriots, then here. This is a letter of safe passage from General Arnold, the commander of West Point. I demand you let me through. The man takes a cursory glance at Arnold's letter. Then eyes Andre with suspicion.

Says here, you're a merchant named Anderson. Not a British officer. So why have you got two names then? Let's search him. The men grab Andre and roughly search his pockets. It's got nothing, not even a bit of coin. The leader of the group looks disgusted. Oh, not even a silver dollar to pay his way.

Well, those look like some nice shiny boots you've got there. We'll have them instead. Andre is powerless as the men hold him tight and rip his boots off. The documents hidden within them immediately fall to the ground. Well, well, well, what have we here? The man scoops up the documents, examines them, then turns back to Andre, holding his musket inches away from his face.

Now what kind of fellow rides around with two names and a boot full of military plans? I reckon we've got ourselves a spy here, and I reckon Patriot Command will pay well for him. The day after his apprehension by Patriot Militial, John Andre is shoved roughly through the door of the Continental Army headquarters in Northcastle, New York. An exhausted-looking colonel sits behind a desk that is covered with maps and correspondence. He glars at Andre and his captors, irritated at this interruption to his work.

I'm Colonel John Jameson. Can you please explain your presence here? Andre knows he's in a dangerous position. But if he can appeal to the colonel's honor as a gentleman, and perhaps he can talk his way out of trouble. Sir, my name is James Anderson. I have a letter of safe passage from General Arnold at West Point. I must demand that you conduct me to him at once and allow me to go about my business. Jameson searches the papers in front of him,

retrieves a letter and scans it as he speaks. Hmm, yes. General Arnold wrote to me last week about a Mr. Anderson. It might be passing through here. He asked that I offer all possible assistance. Andre's heart leaps at the colonel's words. But then, the militiaman who took him prisoner steps forward. Sir, he said he was a British officer, and he had these on him,

plans showing the defences at West Point. The man is a dirty enemy spy. The militia man hands Jameson the documents Andre had hidden in his boot. Jameson looks them over, his brow furrowing with concern. André tries to deflect his suspicions. I assure you, sir, this is simply a misunderstanding. Please conduct me to General Arnold and everything will be resolved. Jameson pauses in deep thought.

Then comes to a decision. Very well, I'll have you escorted to West Point and delivered into General Arnold's custody. But I will also send General Washington these documents that you are carrying, as this is most irregular. André breathes with relief. The plot to take West Point is unraveling, but if he can get to the fort quickly, then there's still a chance that he and Arnold can escape with their lives.

That evening, American spymaster Benjamin Talmudge rides into the continental camp at North Castle. It's late, and he's been leading an expedition in the field. He's looking forward to some rest. But as he dismounts, one of his lieutenants comes running over. Welcome back, sir. I thought you'd want to hear this immediately. The militia arrested a man calling himself Anderson.

He had a letter of safe passage from General Arnold, but then when they searched him, they found maps showing the fortifications of West Point. The word around camp is he's a British spy. At the mention of the word spy, all thoughts of rest disappear. This needs investigating. Talmud enters the farmhouse room that serves as his quarters. Placing his lamp on his desk, he sees that two letters have been left for him.

Leaning closer, he notices with shock that both are from General Arnold at West Point. Talmadge holds each letter up to the light. In the first, Arnold seems to be asking him for information about his spiring in New York. This is strange. Arnold should know that such information would be highly protected between himself and George Washington. Why should Arnold be concerning himself in intelligence matters? Then Talmud examines the second letter. In it, Arnold is asking Talmud for assistance to be given to a merchant named Anderson

should they cross paths. Something doesn't feel right about this. Talmud stares into the flickering flame of his lamp, trying to piece together what's troubling him. In a flash, it comes to him. The report he received days earlier from eight years, Agent 355 in New York. She said a British officer is being sent on a mysterious mission

that could change the course of the war. A British officer, a mystery mission. A suspected spy caught with documents about West Point and a letter of safe passage from Arnold. Talmud reels as if struck by lightning. It can only mean one thing. Benedict Arnold is a traitor. Moments later, Talmud is hammering on Colonel

Jameson's door. Jameson stands in surprise as Talmud enters before being granted permission. Sir, the man you arrested today, the one carrying the documents about West Point. I need to question him immediately. Well, you can't. I already sent him over to General Arnold with the letter asking for an explanation. Sir, with all due respect, I believe you have made a grave error. I believe the real traitor here may be General Arnold himself. Jameson pales in shock. But before he can stammer a response, Talmud strides to the door and calls in a junior officer. You there. Come here. Take three men and ride after the team transporting Mr. Anderson to West Point.

And ride like the devil. You must overtake them. And when I find Addison, sir? Talmud thinks for a moment. If Anderson is a spy, he needs to ensure he is far out of reach of the British. He thinks of the hamlet of South Salem, New York. It is securely under patriot control. detain him, then bring him and the letter he's carrying to South Salem. I'll meet you there.

But, just as the officer salutes, Jameson stands up. No, you may detain Anderson if you must, but I insist that my letter is transmitted to Major General Arnold. I've just told you the man may be a traitor. Major Talmud, Major Talmudge, Major General Arnold is my commanding officer. What if you're wrong? I shall be offering him a grave insult. But what if I'm right, Colonel?

What if I'm right? The next morning, South Salem, New York. Talmadge peers through a slit in the prison cell door. Inside is the suspected spy, Mr. Anderson. Talmadge observes how Anderson paces the length of the cell in exact rhythm, and stops, spins on his heel and marches back. This is no merchant. This is someone with military training.

The prisoner stops pacing the same. Talmadge enters, the two men face each other. My name is Major Benjamin Talmadge. I must ask you to give me your real name and your rank. The man looks Talmage in the eye. I've already given my name to Colonel Jameson. Indeed, but I have reason to disbelieve that name. There's only one man who could have given you the documents you were carrying,

Major General Arnold at West Point. I believe Arnold is a traitor, and that you are a senior British officer, likely in military intelligence, that was sent to liaise with him. And you are with continental intelligence, I assume? Talmud's nods. The two spy chiefs regard each other silently across the cell for a moment, before the prisoner returns the nod.

Very well. I'm a major in the British Army. More than that, I refuse to say. You're a major in the British Army. yet you're traveling out of uniform. Prisoner resumed pacing. Finally, he turns to Talmadge once more. Major Talmudge, I haven't shaved in three days.

Would it be permitted for me to have some utensils? An officer should be allowed to keep himself in the manner of a gentleman. Talmud can't help but admire how the man before him is able to maintain his civility in the midst of such danger. Certainly. As soon as you tell me the truth. The prisoner ceases pacing and seems to come to a decision. If you give me ink and paper, I shall write to General Washington and give you a full account. You have my word.

Talmud strides out of the cell and returns with the paper. The prisoner sits at the cell's small desk and begins to write. He then hands over the letter. Talmud reads, and his blood runs cold. It reveals the prisoner is really Major John Andre. of the British army and confirms Talmud's worst fears. Benedict Arnold is a traitor, and he's planning to hand West Point to the British at exactly the moment that General Washington himself is there.

Without a word, Talmud rushes out of the cell. He has to inform Washington before this treachery can endanger the very revolution itself. The next day, Arnold's wife, Peggy, rocks their six-month-old son in his cot, while staring out the window at the fields beyond West Point. She and their child have joined Arnold at the fort. It's a far cry from the Society Boards of Philadelphia, but she believes her place is by her husband's side. Downstairs, she can hear Arnold having breakfast with his officers, and Alexander Hamilton, George Washington's aide de camp, who has come in advance of the general's arrival. Peggy, he is a messenger of a messenger of a man.

arrive, but thinks nothing of it. Then she hears footsteps heading up the stairs. Arnold burst into the room, closes the door, and waves a letter in front of her face. They've called Andre. He's in prison. I don't know what he's said, but he could have told him everything. I have to go now. Or they'll hang me. What? How? What do you mean you have to go? Peggy reels in shock as the baby wakes and starts crying. She lifts him from the court as Arnold rushes across the room and stuffs him. purse of coins in his pockets, then returns and holds her shoulders.

Peggy, my love, I can't take you with me right now. I have to move fast or I'm a dead man. I'll send for you once I'm over the British lines. You must pretend you knew nothing. Washington will treat you fairly. He's a gentleman. You just have to convince him the plot was all my doing. And you were just an innocent victim.

Peggy's eyes well with tears as Arnold continues. What a, Andre? There is nothing there can be done. but do as I say and all will be well. I will send for you. But you must convince them you knew nothing. And with that, Arnold hurries out of the room. As Peggy listens to his footsteps, she's almost numb with shock.

Her husband has gone from war hero to traitor, and now he's on the run. And she herself could even be hung as a spy if the truth became known. Peggy strokes her baby's head, trying to comfort him. as her own world disintegrates around her and wonders how she will ever be able to face General Washington.

Follow the Spy Who on the Audible app or wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen to all episodes of The Spy Who add free by joining Audible. You have been listening to The Spy Who, an Audible original. Have you got a spy story you'd like us to tell? Email your ideas to The Spy Who at Audible.com. A quick note about our dialogue. We can't know everything that was said or done behind closed doors, particularly far back in history.

But our scenes are written using the best available sources. So even if a scene or conversation has been recreated for dramatic effect, it's still based on biographical research. We used many sources in our research for this season, including spies, patriots and traitors by Kenneth Daigler, George Washington's Secret Six by Brian Kilmead, and Don Yeager, and Washington's spies by Alexander. Ronda Rose. The Spy Who is hosted by me, Raza Jafri. It's a Yellow Ant production. This episode was

written by J.S. Rafaeli, fact-checking by Louise Byrne. The senior producer was Jay Priest. The sound designer was Joshua Morales. Music supervision by Scott Velasquez for Frisson's Sing. For Yellow Ant, the story editor and executive producer was Tristan Donovan. For Audible, The executive producers were Estelle Doyle and Theodora LaLudas.