Back in Berlin from a mission to Vienna, my dispatches delivered, once
more comfortably ensconced in my quarters, on the Mittelstrasse, I was
looking forward to an evening at the Pavilion Mascotte. I was just
getting into my dinner coat when my man bowed an orderly through the
door and at once all my plans took swift flight out the window. The
orderly brought a command for my immediate attendance at the
Wilhelmstrasse. Now the gentlemen of the Wilhelmstrasse are never
kept waiting and do not accept excuses. Within twenty minutes I was
shown into the chambers of Count von Wedel; in thirty minutes I was
out again, having complete orders. They know what they want at the
Wilhelmstrasse and they generally get it.
As I hurried back to my rooms I went over what von Wedel had said:
"You are to be ready to take the midnight express to Monte Carlo. You
will there keep watch on and report any possible meeting between the
Russian, French and English ministers, at present traveling about the
Riviera. You will have the assistance, if necessary, of the Countess
Chechany. If you need her, send her this card" (he had given me the
card with his signature across it, a reproduction of which is
presented on this page)." If meetings or conferences take place, you
must obtain the tenor thereof. Here is an order for your primary
expenses." He had flicked an order for 3000 marks, about $750, across
his desk. "Anything you wish elucidated?"
Not having met the Countess, I had requested her description. Pushing
a button, Count von Wedel had given the answering secretary an order;
within three minutes I was shown the photograph of the lady and her
signature, of which I took a copy. Having no further requests I had
bowed myself out.
My first act was to cash the order; second to decide and prepare the
character I wished to assume in Monte Carlo. I decided on a South
African mine owner. I know considerable about mining, and being well
acquainted with South Africa, the Rand and Transvaal, I had the
advantage of knowing my locality first. A Secret Service agent is
always careful to choose a character with which he is fully familiar.
One is certain to meet, sooner or later, men in the same walk of life;
and unless one be well primed, one is bound to be "bowled out." I
knew there would be South African mining men at Monte Carlo.
Procuring necessary papers, such as mining journals, quotations, a
couple of South African newspapers and photographs, I went home and
had my man carefully select and pack my wardrobe. I caught the
midnight Lloyd Express. Selecting a pleasant middle compartment, and
getting my seat registered, I made myself comfortable and began to map
out a campaign. This was rather a tough problem. To be in the
slightest degree successful, I had to get near, and if possible in
touch with the ministers that Count von Wedel had designated. How is
this to be done? I knew it was far from easy, almost impossible, to
make their casual acquaintance.
I began to cast the personality of the three men over in my mind.
There was Prince Kassimir Galitzin, at that time high in the favor of
the Czar. There were Delcasse of France and Sir Edward Grey of
England. All three were gyrating about the Riviera and the
Savoy--ostensibly it was for their health, possibly for other reasons.
In any case the health of these gentlemen seemed a matter of some
concern to the German emperor. Health trips of more than one
statesman in or about the same locality are looked upon with much
suspicion and promptly investigated; more so when there is any extra
political tension. At that time--it was in 1910--the air was tense,
Germany was in the dark, unable to distinguish friend or foe.
Sir Edward Grey's habits were unknown to me. With Delcasse's I was
somewhat familiar. Prince Galitzin--ah, yes! I knew him pretty well,
_bon vivaint_, extremely fond of a pretty face. Um! I began to see
light. Here is where the Countess might come in. By her photograph,
an extremely beautiful woman; but photographs often flatter and do not
give an indication as to personality. _Festina lente. I could see.
Five forty-five the next afternoon and I was installed at the Hotel
Metropole in Monte Carlo. After a refreshing bath, I had supper
served in my room, and sent for the hotel courier--this an old
globe-trotter trick. Hotel couriers or dragomen are walking
encylopædias. They are good linguists, observant and shrewd. They
are masters of the art of finding out things they should not know, and
past grand masters in keeping their mouths shut unless you know how to
open them. Not with palm oil. Oh, no, nothing so crude! You would
never get any truths or anything worth while, with bribery.
I had to find out local intrigues and gossips, who was in Monte Carlo
and what was doing, who were the leading demi-mondaines and gamblers?
Were there any possible Secret Service men? Hence the courier, a
Swiss from Ober Arau, a district of Switzerland, I luckily knew well.
When he knocked at the door, I cheerily bade him come in. I made my
manner as good natured as possible. I offered him a real Medijeh
cigarette. As befitting his station, he was slipping the cigarette in
his pocket.
"Oh, no!" I said. "Light it, won't you? Have a little smoke with me
here. I'm a bit lonesome. I want to get my bearings. Won't you join
me in a glass of wine?"
That was my first oar in. After some commonplace conversation, as to
how the season was, I asked:
"Anybody of interest here?"
I winked knowingly. Possibly it pleased the courier to have someone
to chuckle over a secret. All my oars were in.
"At the Grand Hotel de Londres," he said slyly, "there is a gentleman
who does not fool me."
I offered him another cigarette, helped him to another glass of wine.
"He is registered there as Count Techlow, but he can't fool me. He is
the Prince Galitzin."
"What's he doing; gambling a lot?" (I knew he wasn't.)
"No," replied the courier, "he's keeping pretty quiet."
"Is there a Countess Techlow?"
The courier shook his head. _Buenno!_ The coast seemed clear. I knew
it was extremely awkward and often dangerous to tempt the quarry away
from a demi-mondaine, especially at Monte Carlo. After chatting some
more I bid the courier good night. I would see the Countess the first
thing in the morning.
Along toward noon I called at the Nouvel Hotel Louvre where von Wedel
had told me I would find Countess Chechany. I sent in my own card
bearing the name of H. Van Huit, Doorn Kloof, Transvaal (the reader
will recall my experience at Doorn Kloof); also von Wedel's card with
his signature.
I had to wait for some time, but finally the Countess received me in
her boudoir. She was in bewitching negligee. From the photograph I
was prepared to find a very handsome woman, but shades of Helen! This
was Venus, Juno and Minerva--the whole Greek and any other goddesses
rolled into one! Tall and willowy, superb of figure, great dark-blue
eyes, masses of blue-black wavy hair, full red lips forming a perfect
Cupid's bow. But why go on--I might get too enthusiastic, and mislead
the reader. After my adventure I never saw the Countess again.
I knew that by birth the Colmtess Chechany was a high Hungarian
noblewoman. By marriage she was related to the Counts of Tolna
Festetics, a leading house in Hungary. Also, she was one of those
marvelously beautiful women peculiar to that country. Waving a small
jeweled hand, she begged me to take a chair beside her. A cigarette
was daintily poised in her fingers.
"Be seated, Mr. Van Huit of Transvaal," gazing at me with a roguish
grin.
We both burst out laughing. Of course she knew what I was. Von
Wedel's card showed her that. But, as her next words plainly showed,
she knew a great deal more.
"I've got a badly sprained ankle, Doctor. Can you do anything for
me?"
I must have shown a pretty stupid face, for she laughed amusedly
again. I certainly was surprised, for up to now I had never met her,
and my being a doctor was known only to one or two persons in the
Service. Besides, it is strictly a rule of the Imperial Secret
Service never to discuss or divulge personal matters. Her attitude by
no means pleased me. I cordially hate anyone, especially women,
knowing more than I do. One never knows where one is standing in a
case like this. I decided not to show my curiosity, but I was
determined to learn how she knew about me. Coolly I said:
"Well, Countess, you have somewhat of an advantage. But if I can be
of any assistance to you, pray command me."
As answer, she sprang up, and pirouetting around the room, exclaimed:
"Now, why be peevish. If you're good and nice, I shall tell you
sometime all about it."
She never did, for with all her ingenuous mannerisms, my lady was
about the deepest and least fathomable bit of femininity I have ever
met--besides being the possessor of a devil of a temper. After some
more banter, which I instigated to become somewhat acquainted with my
prospective partner, I came to business.
"Do you know, Countess, the object of my mission?"
"Nothing beyond the intimation of your coming and the command to
cooperate with you if necessary. So you had better enlighten me, mon
chère."
I did so with some reservation, it being my habit not to let anyone
into a thing too much, least of all a woman. I suggested that our
first object was to make Prince Galitzin's acquaintance. As his
Serene Highness resided at the Hotel de Londres, we agreed to dine
there. After accepting a dainty cup of chocolate I departed,
purposely returning home by way of the Londres. Here, with a little
diplomacy, I managed to reserve for dinner the table I wanted, one
next to the Prince. Well pleased, I later dressed, armed myself with
a bouquet of La France roses, and called on my partner.
I had the roses sent up and waited. The Countess sent word that she
would be down shortly. I smoked three cigarettes. Still no Countess.
I have yet to meet a woman who could or would be punctual. Finally I
heard the soft swish and frou-frou of silk garments and looking up saw
her ladyship coming down the grand stairway. She was brilliantly
robed, jewels flashed at her neck and wrists. She was of that type of
beauty difficult to classify, although assured of approval in any
quarter of the world.
"Tired of waiting, mon ami?" tapping me playfully on the arm. "See,
in return for your patience I am wearing your roses."
She had them pinned on her corsage. We entered our carriage and drove
to the Hotel de Londres, discussing the parts we were going to play.
Would the Russian Bear be caught? I wondered. When we arrived, I saw
that the hotel was pretty well filled. Everybody who was anybody
seemed to be there. I noticed a number of prominent American society
ladies. Experience has taught me that there are three places where
you meet sooner or later every known person in the world,--Piccadilly
Circus, the terrace of Shephard's Hotel, Cairo, and Monte Carlo.
Remembering our diplomatic conversation of the afternoon, the maître
d'hôtel came rushing forward and with profound bows directed us to
our table, which was tastefully decorated with La France roses, the
Countess' favorites (charged to expenses). As we walked slowly down
the passage to our table, many eyes were turned toward us. The
Countess appeared unconscious of it all. Lazily, half insolently
observant, yet wholly unconcerned, she was without doubt the most
strikingly beautiful woman in the assembly; this, though the society
of the world seemed to fill the Londres that night. Poor Galitzin!
As we seated ourselves, a hush fell about the immediate table to our
right and left. It was followed by a low buzzing of curious or
interested, wise or ignorant, human bees. On our right I saw the
Prince Galitzin. From the moment of our entrance he had kept looking
at the Countess. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, and
abruptly he changed seats with one of the gentlemen at his table.
Obviously his view of the Countess' face was not at the angle he
wished. Screwing his monocle in his eye, he began to stare pretty
consistently.
Of course this delighted me. The avidity with which his Serene
Highness was swallowing the bait promised much. I thought it
advisable, however, to create a little diversion, something that would
drive away a possible suspicion that this was a "plant." It was
perfectly obvious to all that the Prince was becoming fascinated.
Also, he was losing his head, for he was showing his fascination in a
rather rude manner. His staring began to attract some attention.
That was the opportunity I was looking for. Calling the maître
d'hôtel, I requested him, pitching my voice so that it would be
easily audible at the surrounding tables:
"Persuade the gentleman on our right to discontinue his annoying
stare."
I saw that the Prince had heard my request. Flushing deeply red, he
abruptly rose and with a bow to the Countess went out of the room. It
was as I wished.
We finished our exquisite and excellently well-served dinner, and went
out to the Terrace Gardens to have our café Turc and cigarettes.
This, to my mind, is the most enjoyable hour of the day, especially in
a place like Monte Carlo, well groomed, well fed, surrounded by an
ever-varying throng of interesting people, beautiful scenery,
exquisite music, the ideal _dolce far niente_.
Slowly inhaling the smoke of my excellent Medijeh, I fell into a sort
of contemplative reverie while waiting for the Prince. I knew he
would come. Back and forth in front of me wandered humanity, all
grades and shades. Here a prince, scion of a noble house, there a
parvenu, fresh from his latest stock-jobbing victory. Here a
mondaine, a demi-mondaine with a reputation in half a dozen countries.
Here a group of famous lights of the stage, there a couple of eminent
statesmen. Truly, a cosmopolitan crowd. What if the antecedents of
some of the pleasure seekers here were known? I recognized many and
it being my business to know such things, their stories came back to
me magically. Skeletons at the feast? Oh, yes, grewsome ones, too.
Just as well, an all-wise Providence has ordained our inability to see
behind the veil. I knew that the woman opposite me could no more
afford to lift her veil than I could mine.
Then one of the gentlemen from the Prince's table came up and
addressed me. First, however, he handed me a card, which I saw bore
the name of Prince Kassimir Vladimir Galitzin.
"Monsieur," said the Prince's companion, "I'm deputed by the Prince to
convey his regrets, should he have caused Madame or you any annoyance.
The Prince begs permission to make his apology to Madame in person."
I replied in words to the effect that Madame being a free agent and
only an acquaintance of mine, must decide this for herself.
"Personally," I added, "I have no objection."
The Countess simply nodded. The Prince's envoy bowed and went away.
He returned in a few minutes with the Prince. Mutual introductions,
general chatting, the Prince confining himself exclusively to the
Countess. About half an hour's talk, refreshments, and there came an
arrangement for luncheon the next day at which the Countess and myself
were invited to be the guests of the Prince.
The luncheon was duly gives at the Hotel Londres and the Prince was a
princely host. Having been invited, I had to attend. There was a
theater party that evening however, to which I was not invited, and
supper after, to which I was not invited. Indeed, when I met the
Prince Galitzin on the grand promenade the next day, he gave me a very
princely stare and kept on walking. All of which suited me perfectly
well. He was in the hands of the Countess.
From afar I watched him become daily more infatuated. They were
constantly driving and attending theaters together. The Prince was
showering valuable presents right and left. In the midst of this, I
received information that Delcasse had arrived at Nizza. The Countess
had her eyes on the Prince, so this left me free to take care of
Delcasse. My work was now to learn if the French minister held any
meetings with Sir Edward Grey or Winston Churchill, ministers from
England, who were shortly expected also to arrive at Nizza.
Subsequently I guessed there would be a final meeting with the Prince.
I continually and unobtrusively followed Delcasse everywhere, but
nothing eventuated owing to unforeseen circumstances in the House of
Commons, and the Cabinet of England, Sir Edward and Churchill were
unable to take their "vacation trips" in person. So they sent an
emissary with important documents to Delcasse, one of which came to
light in his subsequent meeting with Prince Galitzin.
On the night of the ninth of November I received a wire from the
Countess. It w as delivered at the Hotel Anglais, Nizza. Opening it,
I read:
"Return. De Camp here. Meeting our friend."
Of course by De Camp she meant Delcasse. Clearly he had slipped away
from me. "Our friend" referred to the Prince. This was news indeed!
Hiring an automobile I made record time for Monte Carlo. I arrived at
my hotel about three o'clock in the morning of the tenth and found
awaiting me in my room, the Countess' maid. She delivered part of an
important conversation which had taken place between Delcasse and the
Prince, and of which I shall presently give the substance and its
explanation. Instructing the maid to inform her mistress that I
wished to see her at ten A. M. at the Casino, in the Salle des
Estranger, I dismissed her. I chose the Salle des Estranger because
it was the most frequented and for that reason the least suspicious
meeting place.
We met as appointed and the Countess confirmed the maid's report. For
about three hours on the evening of the ninth, Delcasse, of France,
and Prince Galitzin of Russia were in conference in the Prince's
chamber at the Hotel de Londres. Having changed her hotel and being
in a chamber adjoining the Prince's, the Countess had managed to
overhear most of this conversation. In her report there were
naturally some blanks. She had not been able to hear every word
uttered. But the purport and trend showed me it was of tremendous
importance.
It was evidently an arrangement between France and Russia, with the
understanding of England, to force Germany into an abject isolation.
Going further, they were trying through a closer alliance of these
three great powers to curtail the activities of German expansion and
completely coup her up diplomatically. The Countess told me that
Prince Galitzin and Delcasse were going to meet again that same
afternoon about five o'clock. As it was absolutely imperative to
obtain knowledge of the rest of the conversation I enjoined the
Countess to exert all her skill to secure the details at this most
important interview, and to meet me once more in a corner of the Salle
des Estrangers, this time at seven o'clock.
I returned to my hotel, settled my bill and had my grip taken over to
the railway station; I got a ticket for Milan. It is always advisable
to lay your plans carefully for a possibly very hurried exit, the
nearest friendly border in this instance being Italy. In the event of
trouble arising, hurrying through France would have been out of the
question. Switzerland is an independent country which would have held
me up officially on being requested to do so, although they do not
extradite for political offenses, but being held up is bad enough.
But once across the Italian border, I was safe enough. A
semi-official hint from the Wilhelmstrasse to the Quirinal would
always procure an open sesame for me--no danger of being held up
there. Hence the ticket for Milan.
The intervening hours I spent on the outskirts of Monte Carlo,
dropping into many a quaint little wine cellar. At dusk I entered the
Salle des Estrangers of the Casino and settling myself comfortably in
the appointed corner, awaited developments. It was a trying wait. I
sat there from seven to ten-thirty, smoking incessantly. I was just
finishing my last cigarette and I had about come to the end of my
resources in entertaining myself. One has ample time to conjecture
all sorts of possible mishaps, and mishaps are deucedly uncomfortable
in this sort of work.
Not to create curiosity or suspicion, by my long occupation of this
particular corner, I had started a tremendous flirtation with a rather
plain, rather rotund lady of the English Cook's Tour type. Her return
glances and smiles attracted the amused attention of most of the
passers-by, especially the attendant of that part of the Salle. This
was rather good, for if one does not gamble or flirt in the Casino he
is regarded by the commissaires as a Chevalier d'Industrie, in other
words "confidence man."
Just then I saw the Countess' maid making a signal to me from the
entrance door and without as much as by your leave I hurried after
her. In about ten strides, I overtook the girl.
"Have you got anything for me?"
"No, sir," she replied. "But her Ladyship wishes to meet you. You
are pleased to make a rendezvous."
This was clever and suited me; knowing that she must have procured
something of importance, I selected a little café, the Boulanger,
close to the station, and after giving the girl a louis, I jumped into
a carriage and drove there. In a short time I was joined by the
Countess who had thrown a hooded mantle over a brilliant evening gown.
Quietly slipping into a chair next to me she took some folded papers
out of her glove, and while fastening a little rosebud into my lapel
slipped them into mvv pockets with the words:
"All I could obtain, but you'll find it sufficient. I'm leaving for
Rome to-morrow night. Bon voyage!"
I looked at my watch and saw I had time to catch the train for Milan.
No sooner was I locked in my coupe and the train in motion, when I had
a good look at the papers. They were two half sheets of note paper,
embossed with the princely coat of arms and containing abbreviated
sentences of dates, and names and a route, all in the handwriting of
Delcasse and the Prince. The whole gist with her repeated, overheard
snatches of conversation showed clearly an intended secret visit of
the President of France to the Czar of Russia, the names of the
officials to be present and the meeting place, the Czar's yacht, the
_Staandart_, off Kronstadt. This meeting, however, did not take
place, the Kaiser forestalling it by his quick action on the Moroccan
situation.
From Milan I went to Berlin and within forty-eight hours the documents
were delivered into the hands of Count von Wedel, and then into the
hands of the Emperor. Their significance was this:
The Moroccan trouble was very ominous. Germany was in a position
where, sooner or later, she would be forced to act. Before this
mission the Kaiser was in the dark. France, Russia and England did
not have their cards on the table. He did not know which countries
would remain neutral in case of war with France. He had suspected
that there was some sort of an understanding brewing against him. The
results of my mission--learning of Sir Edward Grey's message to
Delcasse, Delcasse's meeting with Prince Galitzin of Russia--confirmed
this beyond all doubt.
But how strong was this alliance? How close would England stick to
France? This he did not know. He only knew that there was a sort of
an agreement, and to find out just how strong was the bond between
England and France, he used a master stroke of diplomacy. He brought
the Moroccan question to a crisis, long before it was anticipated; he
sent the warship _Panther_ into Agadir Harbor and forced England and
France to show their hands. How close war was averted, only four
persons knew at that time--the Captain of the _Panther_, von Wedel,
the Kaiser and myself. And how Europe just missed being plunged into
a tremendous war I shall tell of in my secret mission that nipped war
in the bud.
I came near forgetting. For his discretion at Monte Carlo, the Czar
rewarded Prince Galitzin by transferring him to a province in Siberia.