Although the revelations which have been made already in the British
House of Commons have thrown some light on the international
intrigues which complicated the progress of the Cuban War, the tragic
event which caused the United States to draw the sword against Spain
has remained a profound mystery to the present hour.
The truth concerning the destruction of the United States warship
_Maine_, in the roadstead of Havana, is known fully to only two
persons now alive. One of these two has taken the vow of perpetual
silence in the monastery of La Trappe, and his name is already
forgotten by the world.
I shall cause some surprise, perhaps, when I venture to assert that
had I left my hotel ten minutes earlier on a certain memorable night
in the year 1898, the Spanish flag might still be flying over the
citadel of Havana.
The extraordinary adventure which I am going to relate had its
starting-point in Paris, which is, to a large extent, the
clearing-house of international politics--the diplomatic exchange
where the representatives of the Powers meet, and sound each other’s
minds. For this reason the highest post in the diplomatic service
of every country is still the Paris Embassy, although France itself
scarcely ranks to-day as a Power of the first magnitude.
It is Paris, as every one is aware, which was the scene of the long
negotiation between the representatives of the Cuban insurgents
and the Government of Madrid on the question of the terms to be
granted by Spain to her discontented colony. In this negotiation it
is equally well known that the Cuban delegates received the moral
support of the United States; but it is not generally known that the
Spanish Government acted throughout in consultation with most of the
European Powers.
I was looking on at the negotiation without any very great interest,
sharing, as I did, in the general impression that Spain would give
way before long, when I was surprised one morning by receiving a
visit from a very remarkable character.
Ludwig Kehler was a Bavarian, who had begun life as a candidate for
the priesthood. A disgraceful affair, the particulars of which I
had never learned, had caused his dismissal from the seminary, and,
after drifting about the world for a time, and mixing in very shady
company, he suddenly appeared in Berlin in the character of a police
agent.
The exact nature of the services which he rendered to the police
was a mystery, but I had formed the theory that he was employed as
a spy on the German Catholics, whose attachment to the House of
Hohenzollern has always been suspected in Berlin.
The presence of this man in Paris was in itself an unusual event. It
did not occur to me to connect it with the Spanish-American question,
and that for a very simple reason. Germany is the one country in
Europe which has never possessed a foot of soil in the New World.
Spain, Portugal, England, France, and even Holland and Denmark have
planted their flags across the Atlantic, but the German Michael has
been content to remain at home while his neighbours were colonising
the globe.
I received Kehler coldly. My acquaintance with him was a purely
professional one, and he was a man whom I profoundly distrusted.
As soon as I could do so, without positive rudeness, I invited him to
explain the object of his visit.
‘It is of a confidential nature,’ prefaced the Bavarian. ‘May I
assure myself that our conversation will remain a secret between us
two?’