supplying false information to the enemy which is too good to omit. In
England, as in Germany, the Intelligence services of the army and the
navy are separate departments, only, whereas in Germany the two services
fought each other with the dogged perseverance of the proverbial
Kilkenny cats, their opposite numbers in London contrived to work with
commendable co-operation except in this one case. Sir Reginald Hall, the
exceedingly astute head of the Admiralty Intelligence service, once ran
across an enemy agent who seemed a likely fellow to snatch greedily at
any morsel of confidential information. At this time Sir Reginald wanted
very badly to have the enemy misconstrue the meaning of a naval
concentration which was in contemplation, so he allowed the watchful spy
to receive, in strict confidence, the knowledge that the ships were
collecting in order to cover a landing of troops somewhere between the
Ems and the Weser.
This threatened violation of their territory came to the ears of the
Dutch statesmen, who had to be gently pacified. It also arrived at the
Imperial headquarters, where it created genuine alarm. Several reserve
divisions were immediately detached from their formations and were moved
to meet the menace. Sure enough, this movement of troops was observed
and reported upon by the zealous British agents, only in this case the
reports went to the War Office and not to the Admiralty.
British military strategists submitted the problem to careful
examination and decided that it indicated an intention on the part of
the Germans to undertake an invasion of the south coast. They speedily
drew up a plan of defence and invited the co-operation of the Admiralty
in opposing this threat to the safety of the realm. Enquiries on the
matter were naturally addressed to Hall by his superiors and he had to
admit that his little plot to deceive the enemy had also succeeded in
confusing his friends at the War Office.
Enough has been written to give some idea of the variety of methods at
Mata Hari’s disposal if she was contemplating sending information to
Amsterdam and to show the manner in which the counter-espionage services
were meeting the ever-changing subtlety of the spies. The Second Bureau
explored the entire complicated field in order to grasp some
incriminating fact. Her influential friends made it positively necessary
to have some concrete evidence of her guilt before they could take any
steps to even demand the withdrawal of her permission to remain in
France, apart from obtaining a conviction before a court-martial, where
the evidence submitted would have to be conclusive. If any of her
actions were of a suspicious character they could always be explained by
the nature of her profession as a light-of-love. But, even admitting
that she was spying, how was it possible to continue to send messages to
her chiefs when the French agents watched every movement with meticulous
care and found nothing damaging? It is notorious that reports were
sometimes passed by word of mouth, but the careful scrutiny of all her
acquaintances failed to reveal anyone who could be supposed to be
receiving and transmitting her messages. It is known that a man called
Wecsler was the principal collector of spy’s reports in Paris, but Mata
Hari was never known to approach him. In fact, there is good reason to
suppose that they did not know of each other’s existence.
In order to appreciate the Second Bureau’s alarm that men of responsible
posts should continue to associate with a woman of Mata Hari’s
reputation and to follow the logical course of the investigation against
her, it is necessary to introduce two more spies, not an unpleasant pair
of underworld characters, but two certified scions of noble families.
These were Ricardo and Dorlac, father-in-law and son-in-law, who were
found to be related to eminent Spanish families; indeed, the older man
claimed, we cannot say with what truth, to be closely related to the
king of Spain. This precious pair of rascals were enrolled in the German
secret service operating from Barcelona.
In Paris they occupied a handsome suite in one of those imposing hotels
on the Boulevard Haussmann and frequented the select diplomatic circles,
where they were generally recognized as men of standing because of their
family associations and because they were travelling on diplomatic
passports, acquisitions which afford the bearers many privileges and a
freedom from the irritating annoyances which a malevolent bureaucracy
invents to distract ordinary travellers. One of the privileges which a
diplomatic passport affords its bearer is immunity from, or at least a
greatly relaxed severity of, customs inspection.
The elder of the two Spaniards stayed in Paris, collecting materials
which would inform his employers on the morale of the people, the
movement of troops behind the line, and a variety of matters, while the
son-in-law bore the dispatches to Geneva and Barcelona. The pair might
have gone on with their work indefinitely had not Dorlac, in returning
one time to France, somewhat ostentatiously offered his baggage for
inspection by the customs officials. There ensued a slight discussion
over the ownership of a box of cigars which Dorlac confidently assured
the inspectors did not belong to him. This was not only cowardice, but
colossal folly. The box had a false bottom in which was concealed a
cipher message of instructions, and rather than run the risk of being
found with it in his possession Dorlac allowed it to fall undisputed
into the hands of the French.
When he arrived in Paris Dorlac roundly abused his father-in-law for
exposing him to danger of arrest with such a childish contraption as a
cigar-box with a double bottom for the conveyance of secret documents;
it was bound to arouse suspicion, he contended. The angry Dorlac further
complained that as he ran the graver risks of the two he was entitled to
the larger share of the recompense. As this money matter was the main
cause of the argument, it was, naturally, conducted in loud tones, and
it was not altogether by chance that a waiter overheard the angry
discussion through the thickness of the door, nor was it chance which
made him a Spanish-speaking waiter. Ricardo pacified his son-in-law with
a promise that he would receive adequate recompense when the next
payment was received, and went so far as to recommend the handle of a
shaving brush as a good hiding-place for their reports if he was going
to submit to customs inspections. This pair of spies can be dismissed
with the comment that they had a quick trial and were executed in
February of 1917.
The significance of Ricardo and Dorlac in Mata Hari’s case lay in their
diplomatic credentials. It gave the first indication that diplomatic
privileges might be abused, and it became necessary to “place” men in
certain Embassies that were thought to be careless in the manner in
which they extended their privileges. As all ordinary mail for foreign
countries was delayed for four days and was very closely inspected to
see that it carried nothing injurious, ambassadors were not infrequently
requested to secure quick delivery or special immunity for important
private letters that had no right to the privilege of exemption. A man
might wish to expedite an important business letter, or a mother might
wish to convey sage counsel to a distant daughter, and occasionally an
ambassador would condescend, provided the business man was of sufficient
substance or the lady gracious and beautiful enough, to extend his
diplomatic protection to the conveyance of his or her mail.
One of the French agents placed in an Embassy was so amazingly
successful in his penetration to a position of trust that he got access
to the diplomatic mail-pouch. It naturally took some considerable time
to reach such a confidential position, but the results obtained proved
conclusively that it would have been advantageous to have made the
attempt long ago. Nevertheless, as a piece of counter-espionage work,
this was an achievement of first magnitude, for, while there have been
numerous instances of a spy gaining access to a single diplomatic
mail-pouch, this ability to keep an Embassy mail under constant
supervision is probably unique in the annals of espionage. It had an
astounding outcome.
A few days before the offensive was launched against the Chemin des
Dames, Mata Hari quitted Vittel and abandoned the rôle of a penitent to
resume her unregenerate life in the capital. One of the first visits she
paid after her return to Paris was to the Embassy of the Netherlands,
where the French agent was submitting the mail to expert supervision.
After a brief interview in an inner sanctum a high official graciously
condescended to forward a letter to Mata Hari’s daughter, Jeanne Louise,
in Holland; it had been done before and it was done again. Some of these
Ministers of foreign powers were willing enough to violate their
diplomatic privileges in order to gain the approval of a woman for whose
favours they had to compete so keenly. Probably the courteous ambassador
imagined that he was morally bound to aid in the transmission to her
innocent daughter of wise counsel from a woman who knew the world so
well. At least a charitable construction may be placed on the action,
for the ambassador was no enemy of France.
But the enterprising agent knew Mata Hari’s reputation at the Second
Bureau and he decided to open this letter, have the contents copied, and
let the cipher experts work upon its problems. The letter showed how
thoroughly Mata Hari had played the part of Delilah in the garments of
Magdalene. It carried information of primary importance on a matter of
espionage arrangements by which the French were trying to repair the
damage caused by a formidable coup delivered by their enemies.
Toward the end of 1915 a wretched traitor had denounced Miss Edith
Cavell and some thirty others for conspiring to convey lost Allied
soldiers safely over the Dutch border. Among the group arrested were
some women agents of the French spy service who had engaged in this
other work as they did in anything designed to outwit the German
authority. One of the defects in the hastily constructed espionage
service in occupied territory was its organization into such a closely
welded body where the members were known to one another. It was a fatal
defect, although possibly not without its advantages by reason of the
opportunities it afforded of mutual aid in the occupied territory. One
of the women charged with aiding the concealment of Allied soldiers
(they were not tried for spying), through either indiscretion or fear,
for the German methods were not distinguished for gentleness,
inadvertently betrayed the employment of a number of French agents. At
the time the Verdun offensive was in contemplation, and to arrest these
betrayed spies at once would doubtless have removed one source of
danger, but it would give the French time to learn that their service
was paralyzed and set about its repair soon enough to gather information
which might destroy the surprise effect of the forthcoming attack.
Consequently, the German service held its hand until the particulars of
the necessary preparations had to be furnished to the lesser formations,
at which time the risk of leakage really began. Then they arrested
sixty-six French agents.
It will be recalled that Miss Cavell and her colleagues were executed
with a great deal of secrecy. The American and Spanish ambassadors, who
were greatly interested in an effort to prevent the commission of the
horror, only learned that the death penalty was to be carried out on the
eve of its execution, too late to take effective steps at prevention.
The reason for this unseemly haste lies in the panic which seized the
Germans when they realized that the French service in their territory
was so extensive, and the frenzy of fear that urged them to destroy
innocent people in the erroneous belief that they were leaders of
espionage who might, if allowed to live, convey through those authorized
to visit them in gaol a warning that their work was discovered. It
proves their lack of actual knowledge of the situation.
The French espionage department was, therefore, deprived of the major
part of their service in occupied territory and, while laboriously
reconstructing the complex organization, had to depend almost
exclusively upon information furnished by the British agents, whose
service was unimpaired. Before long it became obvious to the German
service that their army zone was being invaded by French agents, but how
they arrived and where they came from remained a complete mystery until
the day came when one of those strokes of fortune which pass for
miracles of police wisdom furnished the solution.
The military governor of Brussels, von Bissing, had fallen victim to a
pair of bright eyes that were physically beautiful but morally terrible.
Their owner, best known in Brussels as Angèle, was generally supposed to
have set too rapid a pace for her elderly admirer to maintain, so that
he died of an overdose of ambition to be youthful and to indulge in the
follies of youth. His death made the girl’s situation somewhat
precarious, for she had lived under von Bissing’s protection in more
ways than one. Finding that her growing popularity thrust her into a
good deal of notoriety, which angered the patriotic civilians who
declined to lighten the life of the invaders, she decided to confide her
past to her new friends, the Germans, as a means of securing her future
safety from malicious gossip or actual denunciation. The girl told how
she had originally fled from Brussels at the approach of the German
invasion, but had been induced to return to it in order to act as an
English spy. The perplexed German officers who heard this confession
wanted to know how she had penetrated their lines. She explained that
she had been dropped from an airplane. This revelation released a flood
of light upon the obscure problem which was puzzling the Intelligence
department as to how the Allies were introducing spies behind their
lines.
It will be readily understood that if the French or British could find
anyone courageous enough to make the hazardous leap from an airplane
into the abyss of night, it was comparatively easy for that person to
find many willing protectors among the loyal civilian population of the
occupied territory who could furnish concealment and assistance. It was
surprising how many gallant French and Belgian men (and women, too,)
were willing to make this perilous drop into the bowl of night and
through an “Archie” barrage in order to serve their country. And let it
be said to their eternal honour that none could have been tempted by the
pecuniary reward, for the mere pittance they received for the task was a
trifle compared to the financial magnates’ salary paid the men who make
spectacular parachute jumps for the benefit of the curious at the
present day.
The practice of landing spies from airplanes is, I believe, an American
invention, having been introduced by Lieutenant Bert Hall, an American
aviator employed by the Turks in the first Balkan War. At the time of
the formation of the Lafayette Escadrille, of which he was one of the
original members, this remarkable soldier of fortune (he is now said to
be a general in the Chinese army) was already experienced in the
dangerous science. Dark nights, the darker the better, were the chosen
times for these daring exploits. The locale selected for a landing-place
was some isolated spot where a resident spy was already stationed. If
the coast was clear the resident agent showed a light up his chimney and
the pilot would then land his passenger. After the lapse of an agreed
time, say two weeks, the pilot would return to the neighbourhood and, if
the arranged-for light was showing, would make a descent, pick up his
spy, and carry him back.
This method had the great advantage that the spy’s absence was of such
short duration that there was no necessity for the always dangerous
written communications by which a spy is so frequently exposed. In this
case he had simply to memorize his information so that in case of
seizure there were no incriminating documents to conceal.
But when the Germans found that the occupied territory was being sown
with enemy agents, they were not long in inventing a means of locating
their landing-places. They placed sound-ranging sets tuned to pick up
the vibration of motors near likely spots and, after a landing had been
effected, there was a comparison of results which revealed the exact
spot where the descent had taken place and a careful watch was then kept
for the pilot’s return. This compelled the adoption of parachutes for
landings, which were thereafter accomplished without sound.
The task required a steady nerve at that stage of airplane
experimentation and when parachutes were usually associated with the
genial lunatic who leaped from a stationary balloon to thrill the
loutish spectators at a country fair. Yet there were one or two hardy
souls who not only made the perilous leap, but who made their way back
to repeat the performance. There were not a few whose experience could
not be passed on for the benefit of their followers, for they were
engulfed in that great silence which enclosed the fate of the “missing.”
To find these courageous guests from the midnight air, once they had
landed, was a task beyond the ability of the distracted German
Intelligence service. Their only hope was to learn where the pilots
dropped their passengers for the aerie descent, and to concentrate
vigilance upon that locality. But, if they ever took any living survivor
of these exploits, none was persuaded to impart this much-needed
information to his captors, who, therefore, had to devise some other
expedient to obtain the knowledge. The evil grew to such dimensions
that, finally, the phenomenal success of Mata Hari in Paris induced her
superiors to allot to her the delicate task of ascertaining from the
pilots themselves what routes they took and at what spots they took
leave of, and picked up, their passengers. It was a job after her own
heart.
This explains her fondness, apart from her already expressed preference
for men of the officer class, for the airmen who came to Paris on leave
and for the same class of men whom she lured into intoxication and
intimacy during her alleged mission of mercy in Vittel. From their
unguarded lips she learned the babbled truth which cost many of the
tellers their lives before the routes could be changed for this risky
work.
Before the astonished Second Bureau had recovered from the shock of
their discovery that Mata Hari had adopted this unique channel of
communication for her treacherous correspondence and had resolved upon a
course of action, the offensive had been launched against the Chemin des
Dames, only to be received with a devastating fire that showed only too
well that the intention had been conveyed to the enemy, who was
expecting it, but as yet there was nothing to suggest that they could do
more than accuse Mata Hari in their minds.
Then like a bolt from the blue came the terrible truth. Within a few
days of the unveiling of her betrayal of the pilots and agents a letter
was received at the Embassy for Mata Hari.
This was not a reply from her innocent young daughter, but a request to
pursue a matter previously mentioned and an expression of thanks for the
information about the attack on the Chemin des Dames, for which she
would receive payment as soon as its reliability had been proved.
“While at Vittel ... I intended to abandon my life of debauchery and to
consecrate myself to the devoted care of this man ... the only man I
ever really loved.”
All the melting softness of her nature must have run into Mata Hari’s
tender glance as she spoke those words, for the rest of her being was as
hard as flint, particularly her heart.
How many of the 80,000 dead, 100,000 wounded, and 20,000 missing had
tasted the bitter sweet of her Delilah kisses will never be known, but
that they were many will be recalled by the survivors who have not yet
forgotten how generously she dispensed hospitality and how liberally she
loved.
It would now appear that the spy had run her course, that the Second
Bureau, implacable in its hate for this detestable business, would
immediately proceed with her prosecution as a spy. But here Mata Hari
had them utterly defeated. With all their knowledge of her treachery,
the French authorities were absolutely powerless to lay a finger upon
her.
_Chapter Ten_
There are few measures of policy on which any general measure of
agreement may be expected of the corps of ambassadors in any national
capital, but there is one which instantly draws them together into an
articulate unanimity, and that is any threat against their common
diplomatic privileges. These privileges are guarded so jealously that
any breach is regarded almost as gravely as a violation of territory.
Consequently, when it was found that one amiable but indiscreet diplomat
had suffered his diplomatic mail-pouch to be used as the means of
conveying a treasonable correspondence against the security of the
nation to whom he was credited there was much impotent indignation among
the French officials. But they had to proceed with the greatest
delicacy. It would never do to expose the indiscreet diplomat, because
that would alienate the sympathy of others who might feel that they were
being submitted to the same undignified suspicion and were having their
correspondence examined by spies. While all were not so treated, some
were.
Again, these were dark days in France. A Ministerial crisis was imminent
upon the question of national security; mutiny had broken out in a
portion of the army; as a result of the venomous campaign of enemy
agents working upon a war-weary and discouraged populace, revolution was
threatening to raise its grisly features in the streets of French
cities; and, quick to sense this state of internal weakness, some
neutral countries whose friendship for the Allies had never been very
demonstrative were ready to provoke a quarrel in order to range
themselves on the side of the apparently victorious Central Powers, and
were only restrained by the wisdom of a few men armed with the power to
hold in check those of their countrymen who listened for inspiration to
the indefatigable German agents. To precipitate a hostile declaration or
even to embitter relations with one of these neutral states might be the
turning-point in the war against the Allies. A revival of confidence in
the leaders of French opinion and a successful military campaign were
alike necessary before the French could openly proclaim the application
of a high-handed policy over the abuse of diplomatic privileges.
Therefore, Mata Hari was allowed to retain her freedom and to continue
her treacherous activity, secure from molestation by the French
authorities until she committed some blunder. The only consolation was
that, with a little luck, they could continue to learn what military
secrets she unearthed by maintaining the supervision of her
correspondence.