more congenial atmosphere of the capital, having renounced her intention
of surrendering what she admitted was a life of debauchery in order to
consecrate herself to the care of her one true lover. It would seem that
she was incapable of denying herself any sensual pleasure. Being in
Paris with the gratifying feeling of having accomplished safely a piece
of difficult and dangerous espionage, she plunged whole-heartedly into
the old life with a gusto stimulated by denial. Whatever luxuries could
be provided in the capital were procured to replace the substitutes she
had been forced to endure in half-starved Vittel. She reappeared on the
stage, to the admiration of the officers on leave and the Parisians who
sought distraction from the accumulation of troubles that threatened
their entire happiness; in a few houses, wealthy old bachelors whose
selfish profligacy overcame their fears for the national safety,
continued to dispense a furtive hospitality which was incomplete without
the central figure of the entrancing _bayadère_, with or without her
veils. Vittel must have seemed very remote and poor Captain Marov
completely forgotten in the mad whirl of pleasure which so soon engulfed
her.
However, her stay in the French capital was of short duration. She
departed this time on what seemed a perfectly legitimate journey, for
she had a well-advertised dancing engagement to fulfil in the Spanish
capital. There was a repetition of her former triumphs in this
engagement, for she was so favourably received that her visit was
extended. During this stay in Madrid, Mata Hari was lionized by the
artistic groups among whom she had already many friends, but the artists
did not monopolize her time. Conspicuous among her friends at this time
were Lieutenants von Kalle and von Kroon, the naval and military
_attachés_ at the German Embassy and known to be the heads of their
respective Intelligence departments in that country.
All during the summer of 1915 the agents of France and Britain were
reporting to Paris and London that most of Mata Hari’s time was spent in
the company of these two officers and that one time she had paid a hasty
visit to Barcelona, where she went directly to the headquarters of the
German secret service in that city and returned without apparently
having visited anyone else. They further reported that she was talking
of paying a visit to Holland early in the next year.
Before embarking for this visit, however, Mata Hari returned to Paris
and resumed her old life, which had been interrupted by the Madrid
engagement. She made no public appearances at the Paris music-halls but
she continued to frequent the dens of midnight revelry where officers
went to pass the feverish hours of liberty granted by a few short days
of leave in Paris. The officers of the Second Bureau were anxious to
learn what line of investigation she was now following in accordance
with the secret instructions hinted at in the first intercepted message
from Holland, but her activities were so cleverly conducted that no hint
of her purpose escaped the secrecy surrounding her. Then came a ray of
hope for the much harassed officials of the Second Bureau. In January of
1916 Mata Hari left France after having announced her intention of
returning to her home in Holland. There seemed little doubt in their
minds that this was merely an opportunity to consult with her employers,
but, on the other hand, there did not appear much likelihood that Mata
Hari would attempt to return to the scene of her successful spying, so
that Paris would be well rid of an undesirable guest. No obstacles were
placed in the way of her departure. But her passing was signalled to the
British.
Accordingly, when the boat in which Mata Hari was travelling touched at
Falmouth, the police ordered her to accompany them to London for
examination as a dangerous person. The chief of Scotland Yard at that
time was Sir Basil Thomson, who has left an account of the interviews in
his book of reminiscences. Thomson admits that he was impressed by the
intelligence the spy displayed in her answers to his questions and her
quick repartee. He was not impressed, however, by her beauty, which, he
says, had begun to fade (she was then forty and had lived through ten
dissipated years which must have left their mark on her features), and
she was growing plump.
Thomson did not mince matters in the two interviews he had with her. In
fact, he quite frankly accused her of carrying on a correspondence with
the enemy. This Mata Hari denied as an absurdity, only to be confronted
with the names of the various German agents with whom she had spent so
much of her time while in Madrid. Instead of being at all disconcerted
by this revelation of his knowledge of her actions, Mata Hari merely
expressed astonishment, assuring him that she had no idea von Kalle and
von Kroon were engaged in Intelligence work; she knew them as _attachés_
at the Legation, but not as the chiefs of the German secret service in
Spain.
This first interview ended in a stalemate. A painstaking search of the
actress’ baggage was no more profitable. There appeared no reason why
Mata Hari’s departure for Holland should be further delayed. The cause
of the delay and the reason why the interview was resumed lie in a fact
upon which Thomson retains a discreet silence.
The President of the Council in Holland had written to the head of
Scotland Yard begging him to obtain Mata Hari’s deportation. There was
no secret about the Dutch premier’s infatuation for the dancer; that was
a piece of scandal which no longer excited surprised comment. But it is
uncommon for a statesman to request a friendly nation to deport his
lover. There can be little doubt that Van der Linden foresaw her tragic
end if she persisted in such dangerous employment, and he feared that
the redoubtable Scotland Yard authorities might penetrate her secret
unless he could get her home without delay.
Therefore, Sir Basil Thomson decided to have one more attempt to extract
some admission from his captive and, if he failed, then to allow her to
proceed to Holland with a caution, thereby performing a humane action by
liberating a known spy and at the same time do a small favor to the
Dutch premier, which might be added to the Allies’ credit balance, then
at a low ebb in certain quarters in Holland.
The second interview had a curious termination. The examination was even
more severe than the first, but, while it failed to extract any of the
knowledge of her activities that Thomson wanted, it did at last induce
Mata Hari to admit that she was a spy. But not for Germany. She was, she
said, employed by the French. This was a piece of sheer stupidity, for
the dancer should at least have known that the French had enough
difficulty in watching their enemies to have any desire to spy upon
their friends. In any event, the risk she ran by lying was great because
all Thomson had to do was to ask the French military mission in London
to verify this statement.
Of course, we know now that Thomson was under no misapprehension, for he
had been forewarned of Mata Hari’s journey by the French. But he had
failed to obtain orthodox evidence which would have enabled him to lay
the case before a British court with any hope of securing a conviction.
He told her, therefore, that as she had done no injury to his country he
would permit her to depart for Holland. He added a piece of friendly
counsel which the dancer would have done well to heed. He advised her
not to leave Holland during the war and solemnly warned her against
trying to visit either Germany or France. Probably profoundly relieved
at the prospect of release from this very embarrassing situation, Mata
Hari said:
“Sir, I thank you from my heart. What I have been doing I will do no
more. You may trust me implicitly.”
So Mata Hari was allowed to step out of the frying-pan _and_ the fire.
But she ignored both Thomson’s warning and her own promise. Apparently
she did not know that the British agents in Holland and Germany were
warned to be on the lookout for her, and that the chief of the English
counter-espionage service was kept informed of her movements.
Almost immediately upon her arrival in Amsterdam, Mata Hari paid a visit
to the tobacco shop kept by Max Neuder. This establishment was already
under the close surveillance of the Allies’ agents, for it was known to
be a “letter-box” for numerous German agents. The postal censors knew
that they had a prize each time they intercepted a letter addressed to
the innocent-looking tobacco shop. Mata Hari’s visits to this place were
promptly reported to headquarters in London and in Paris, thus
confirming further the existing suspicion against her.
At the time of the dancer’s return to her home, the German authorities
had become exasperated by the audacious exploits of an English agent who
defied their best efforts at detection. When, finally, they received an
awe-inspiring rebuke from the All Highest for a particularly impudent
performance by this spy, it was decided to call in the aid of Mata Hari,
to whom the man was believed to be known.
In order to appreciate the situation which faced the dancer one must
have at least a glimpse of her opponent.
The fame of “Mr. C.” is already known to those American secret agents
whose work lay along naval lines. Few people either in his own country
or abroad knew that this symbol covered the identity of an English army
captain called Reilly, who was the Admiralty’s “ace” in espionage.
Reilly had an extraordinary faculty for acquiring a perfect knowledge of
languages and for impersonating exactly the type of people whose
language he was speaking. To this he added the advantages of his Irish
ancestors’ quickness of thought, fertile imagination, readiness of
tongue, and unbounded courage. He knew several European countries better
than he knew his own.
Reilly’s most astounding _coup_ against the Germans reads like a
romance. It has rarely been equalled, and only excelled by his own later
exploits in Russia.
An order had been sent to German army headquarters to send a responsible
officer to receive instructions on naval policy from the Emperor. The
man chosen was an unknown junior officer, for the staff had their own
ideas concerning responsibility. However, he displayed considerable
intelligence and a broad knowledge of naval and military matters during
the explanation of the new submarine policy which was laid before him.
He requested amplification of indefinite points, clarity in place of
some obscurities, and a detailed instruction upon the army’s
co-operation to produce the desired political effect. His alertness and
zeal so impressed the seniors that they were convinced that their policy
would not be misinterpreted at army headquarters, and the Emperor was so
struck by the amiable young officer that he invited him to lunch.
The visitor to the Kaiser’s luncheon table was “Mr. C.” the British
Admiralty agent.
Reilly exhibited the signs of a master-craftsman in this performance. He
displayed a technique that shows how profoundly he studied the men
against whom he was working. It was not so well known then as now, that
the German headquarters staff frequently courted disaster in employing
young and inexperienced officers upon tasks that are usually delegated
to more experienced men. The classic example is that recounted in von
Kluck’s memoirs, where a visiting colonel from the staff overrode this
army commander’s orders and ignored the general plan for the invasion of
Belgium in order to impose his own ideas upon the handling of the
situation.
Reilly’s close study of the men he was watching must have acquainted him
with this peculiarity of the staff. How he should have known who was
entrusted with the mission I do not pretend to know, but it will look
less like a miracle when the reader knows that during many months of the
war one of Prince Rupprecht’s staff majors was a British agent, and that
he contrived to keep his employers well furnished with information in
spite of the vigilant observation of other men who were jealous of his
influence with their commander and who sought his downfall in order to
occupy his place.
How Reilly contrived to waylay or kidnap his victim in order to
impersonate him remains a mystery, and will probably continue to do so,
for the files of the British secret service are well nigh inaccessible.
Nor is it known how long it was before the German authorities realized
they had been duped. Their side of the question is no less enshrouded in
silence that is likely to remain impenetrable, unless one of the actors
should choose to speak. But before dismissing Captain Reilly to make way
for Mata Hari, space might be found for mention of another sensational
_coup_.
After the war he was sent to Russia, where he struck up an acquaintance
with Trotsky, then Commissioner of War, who introduced him to Lenin. The
leader of the revolution speedily recognized that Reilly’s great
knowledge of Europe made him a decided acquisition in the Foreign
Office. It was while acting as an official in this department that the
British agent saw a letter which he judged would be of interest to his
employers. This was the famous Zinovief letter which was instrumental in
wrecking MacDonald’s first labour government in England.
But the Russian secret police had come to suspect him during an absence
from his post in connection with the disposal of this document. The G.
P. U. have an unenviable reputation as a power for vengeance. When
Reilly was travelling back to Russia, their secret agents picked up his
trail in Berlin and accompanied the train to the frontier. No sooner was
the frontier line passed than these agents took Reilly off the train
and, without even the apology of a trial, riddled his body with bullets.
Such, then, was the man whom Mata Hari was called upon to expose. Her
choice in the search depended entirely upon her acquaintance with the
agent who was supposed to be operating. Her meeting with this agent
antedated the war and took place in a Balkan town. Mata Hari had been
instructed at that time to scrape up an acquaintance with the man who
was believed to be in possession of some exceedingly valuable knowledge
much envied by the Germans. Knowing that he was an old Indian army
officer, Mata Hari thought that her imaginary Hindu origin might serve
as a suitable basis of common interest. She approached the British
agent, therefore, and said to him:
“Have we not met before? Ah yes. In India, was it not?”
“More likely in Berlin,” was the uncompromising retort, which should
have warned Mata Hari that the British were fully aware of her
activities long before war broke out.
However, this lesson never seems to have been completely mastered by
Mata Hari, and as she was most probably too vain to report these snubs
to her employers, they were unable to warn her that they were portents
of danger. But her efforts to locate the man who was causing so much
uneasiness at Fräulein Lesser’s headquarters proved completely
unavailing, and after having employed herself about the usual haunts of
Intelligence agents in Amsterdam and Antwerp, the dancer spent some
little time in Germany, where she had no professional engagements to
fulfil.
It would be an insult to the undoubted intelligence of the chiefs of the
German secret service to suppose that they entertained any great hope of
success that Mata Hari would have their intended victim surrendered to
her by some chance encounter. They were much too wise to be so sanguine
of fate’s friendly assistance, and much too subtle to admit a limit to
their resources. They planned a _coup_ which was intended to relieve
them of much anxiety on the score of Belgian spies.
The information concerning the dropping of enemy agents behind their
lines must have been exceedingly welcome to the German Intelligence
staff, for they were enduring much annoyance from the existence of an
efficient and well-organized counter-espionage service in addition to
the extending activity of energetic spies. The amount of spying and
counter-spying which went on in Belgium must have been phenomenal. The
Allies had the assistance of practically every Belgian in the occupied
territory who possessed the necessary hardihood and who was capable of
responding to the claims of patriotism. This patriotic motive placed the
invading army under a severe handicap, since the best minds were thus
employed against them, either actively in espionage or passively in the
resistance of their own agents.
But the famous Stieber (and Fouché before him) had found that felons and
crooks, if poor material for spies, made excellent counter-spies. Thus,
while occupying France and Belgium, the Germans organized regular gaol
deliveries of every convict who would undertake the malodorous work of
treachery in return for his liberty. These hired renegades proved of
incalculable value in the famous sweep which resulted in the seizure of
the sixty-six French agents. The most notorious of them, Armand Jeannes,
boasted that he had betrayed no fewer than one hundred and twenty-six of
his fellow countrymen and women.
Every class of Belgian was engaged in the task of outwitting their
invading hosts. Simple peasants did what they could, educated men like
the Judge Lacroix accomplished infinitely more because they occupied
influential positions, and cultured women like Louise de Bettignies
achieved marvels of deception.
Louise de Bettignies deserves special mention because her refinement
seemed to render her singularly unfitted for the rough and active work
of organizing a corps of spies to operate in British interests. Yet this
girl, and others like her, developed a resource, a courage, and a
fortitude of which many men could justifiably be proud. One day, while
somewhat of an amateur at the business, Louise was trying to cross the
frontier into Holland without the necessary papers, when she was
overtaken by a patrol. Her message was so ill-concealed that exposure
must certainly follow capture, and the prospect of death before a firing
party did not appeal to Louise. She preferred to risk another form of
calamity. Somehow or other she had to cross a wire fence which was
charged with 14,000 volts of electric current. In her flight from the
advancing patrol the girl had scrambled to the top of the roof of a
stable and, seeing that she had been observed, she took a flying leap
which barely carried her over the sinister barrier into safety.
Thereafter, Louise de Bettignies resolved to use her brain in order to
spare her body. Two of her deceptions are masterly. Her usual disguise
was that of a lace-seller, which enabled her to tramp from village to
village, organizing her little band of spies, but this did not spare her
from periodical searches by the alert women agents of the German police.
Her principal tormentor was one woman agent who made a practice of
seizing and searching Louise on sight. On one occasion this active
counter-espionage agent encountered Louise at a moment when the girl
would gladly have been spared a meeting, because she was carrying papers
that would certainly involve a terrible punishment were they discovered.
It was a stormy, wet day, and Louise was carrying an umbrella which she
humanely offered as cover to the police agent who fell into step beside
her. For once they chatted more or less amicably, but it is
characteristic of the devotion to their duty which distinguishes the
good agents, that the German woman did not permit this courtesy to
interfere with her duty. As soon as they arrived at the first town
Louise was ordered to enter the police station and submit to a very
thorough search.
Although the girl was stripped naked and all her possessions examined
with minute care, nothing of interest was revealed. But the search
appeared to have frightened the girl; she was abnormally agitated when
informed that she might proceed on her way. This agitation was stage
play. Louise knew very well that she was under suspicion of being in
possession of secret documents, and at all costs she had to draw the
attention of the agents from the hiding-place of her treasure. But their
attentions were considered sufficient excuse for the girl’s apparent
agitation, and the police saw nothing extraordinary in the fact that she
should walk out of their station without her umbrella and have to return
some minutes later to recover it. That mere act was a fine stroke, for
it showed the enemy agents that this article was a trifle which could be
easily overlooked when, in point of fact, the papers were concealed in a
hollow rib of the umbrella. No ruse could have distracted attention from
the hiding-place better than this.
On yet another occasion this same spy was requested by the British to
furnish them with information which would enable them to locate enemy
gun positions in the neighbourhood of Lille. The task of giving such
exceedingly exact information was beyond the capability of any code.
Nothing but a very accurate map could suffice. Nevertheless, Louise had
among her many assistants several who could draw a map with creditable
accuracy and also a photographer who was able to apply his art to the
reproduction of a minute copy of this work. The precious map was
eventually reduced to the size of a large pin head, but even this had to
be carefully concealed. At last a lens was removed from the frame of a
pair of spectacles, the paper stuck on the edge, and the glass replaced.
It went safely over the frontier in this hiding-place and the English
were able to undertake one of the most successful counter-battery shoots
which marked the war.
Louise de Bettignies was eventually caught. She was then on the verge of
nervous breakdown produced by her unremitting labours, and her
subsequent examination proved exceedingly valuable to the Germans. The
girl and some of her companions, whom she unwillingly involved, were
sentenced to death, although the sentence in her case was commuted to
one of twenty-seven years imprisonment. Louise died in Cologne shortly
before the armistice and was accorded full military honours by the
British and French when her body was disinterred for burial at her own
home.
In order to overcome this menace of spying in Belgium where the enemy
agents were giving evidence of increased audacity, the Germans
determined to make use of their accomplished instrument, Mata Hari. The
dancer was sent back to Paris with instructions to obtain the necessary
information which would enable them to break up this nest of spies.
After her experience in London it was out of the question to send her
back by that route. Had she not promised Sir Basil Thomson to avoid
France? Had she not also broken her promise to him to remain away from
Germany? She had visited that country and it was not improbable that the
chief of Scotland Yard had been informed of the violation of her
undertaking. So she went back to France through Switzerland and, thanks
to her diplomatic associations, she experienced no difficulties at the
carefully-guarded frontier.
Left to herself, Mata Hari seems to have been equal to most occasions,
but now that she was only the instrument of a prearranged scheme, the
whole affair was sadly bungled. It was conducted in full accordance with
a routine that never varied. It lacked the subtle touch of the
master-spy. To appreciate the significance of her subsequent actions it
is necessary to understand another phase of spy tactics.
It is impossible to apply the ordinary standards of conduct to the
well-trained spy. Not only is his psychology a thing apart, but every
action must be studied, nothing can be left to chance if suspicion is to
be averted. Thus, what would be a simple, automatic action on the part
of an innocent person becomes a tortuously complex proceeding for a spy.
The most severe test of all must naturally come when the secret agent
finds he is being watched by his opponents. Unless the man has an
abnormally strong character he is likely to become panic-stricken when
he first learns that the police are observing his movements and he may
commit some foolish indiscretion which will lead to his conviction as an
enemy agent. To guard against this contingency all the German spies were
carefully instructed in their behaviour should this emergency arise.
Calculating that a bold action would best divert suspicion, their agents
were instructed how to act in the manner best designed to convince the
watchers of their loyalty.