to which the harassed German secret service were prepared to go in order
to purchase their reputation for omniscience. The lives of two submarine
crews was the price offered to purchase French faith in Mata Hari, so
that she might secure a confidential mission for the purpose of
betraying that faith. As an example of German psychology this act would
be amusing if it were not so amazingly tragic, because the only object
it could possibly achieve with men accustomed to the curious procedure
of volunteer agents, was to confirm suspicion. There always did exist
the possibility that Mata Hari’s offer of service might be genuine, but
the accuracy of this priceless information she offered as bait removed
any shadow of doubt that there was some deep underlying purpose.
It would, however, be interesting to know what the crews of other German
submarines would think of this inhuman bargain which sacrificed their
comrades to the needs of a secret service who were thus advertising
their incompetence to deal with a situation that must have been foreseen
during the many years of study devoted to the plan of invading Belgium.
Or was the treacherous betrayal a subtle means by which the German naval
authorities disciplined the recalcitrant crews of two submarines? Was it
their intention, in throwing victims to the lions, to conceal the hand
that was becoming too feeble to chastise them? Whatever the motive, the
incident stands out as a piece of defective psychology; worse than
inhuman, it was stupid. Instead of producing a feeling of trust in Mata
Hari it irrevocably condemned her.
The next step was to uncover her real motive. The French had only a dark
hint that Mata Hari had been instructed to obtain some other information
than the landing-place of spies dropped from airplanes and the
preparations for the spring offensive. In her correspondence received
through the neutral embassy had come a request for her to expedite this
work, a sure proof of its urgency, so much was known to the French
through the intercepted message. The surest way to find out what Mata
Hari was after, was to allow her to make a choice from the many missions
available. The choice she made, of getting into communication with
French agents in Belgium, revealed to the French officers the unrest
caused by their steady repair of the organization that had been crippled
by the German _coup_ before the battle of Verdun. That Mata Hari was
under the impression she had been successful in her quest is proved by
the sequel. But what she did with the two secret documents entrusted to
her care is an unsolved mystery. That they reached her chiefs is beyond
doubt, but what channel she used for their conveyance has to this day
remained a problem.
What of the French betrayal of their agents? Was it not on a par with
the German betrayal of submarine crews? Not quite.
Shortly after Mata Hari left on her mission the German counter-espionage
service in Brussels arrested a French agent whose name was on the list
supplied to Mata Hari. Three weeks later he was shot. That only one man
from a possible twelve should suffer requires some explanation. The name
of that one man happened to be the only genuine name on the list and it
had been put there with a purpose; the other names were all of
fictitious persons. The selected victim was a traitor who was serving
two masters without honesty to either, for, while he was working for the
French and accepting their pay, he was performing a like service and
receiving a similar reward from the enemy. No nation has any use for the
double spy of this type; his potential danger is too considerable and he
is beyond discipline. Since this man was secure behind the German lines,
he was out of the reach of punishment by the French, but by giving a
hint of his dual occupation to the German police the punishment was left
to them. We know that it was carried out efficiently, to the mutual
satisfaction of both sides.
Now came the question of dealing with Mata Hari. The French argued that
since she was deliberately betraying them in a way which was bound to
become known to them, her work in Paris was completed with the
accomplishment of this mission and she was seeking a safe means of
escape to Holland, possibly with other and more dangerous knowledge
gathered from some of her influential and well-informed associates. They
were determined that she should not reach her German lover who had been
controlling her work, but, on the other hand, to detain her would arouse
the suspicion that they knew of her treachery, and they did want her to
send that list of spies to Holland. First, because it would remove one
traitor, second, because it might furnish them with the evidence they
sought to bring about her condemnation. Unfortunately, they did not
secure tangible evidence of her guilt; that escaped them. The
co-operation of the London police was, therefore, invited, but even
under their alert observation and the employment of different methods
nothing could be learned. During her absence from her hotel the police
undertook a thorough search of her luggage, but failed to find the
missing secret documents. Upon which it was assumed that she had
contrived to slip them through unobserved to her employers. The next
thing was to render her powerless to commit any further damage to the
Allied cause.
So, when Mata Hari left London in the dead of night with the comfortable
feeling that she had outwitted the united secret services of two
countries and was headed for a tranquil haven where she could afford to
laugh over danger as only an unpleasant memory, she was wholly
unprepared for the situation which awaited the dawn. When day broke and
she went on deck to see the low-lying coast line of her native land she
was greeted by the sight of unbroken sea. Nothing else was visible. When
she addressed a question to one of the ship’s officers the awful
realization that she had been made the victim of the preposterous humour
of the London police (a sense of humour that often has a salty flavour)
was revealed in his reply.
“We shall not land for another two days, madame,” said the officer.
“What, does the journey to Holland take so long now?” she asked in
dismay.
“Holland? Why Holland?” asked the officer. “We are bound for Spain and
you will be in Cadiz in two days’ time—that is, if the submarines do not
get us.”
And of all the places in the world the one for which she had least
desire to visit was the Spanish capital, to which she must go from
Cadiz.
_Chapter Twelve_
When Mata Hari arrived in Madrid she was almost as destitute of means as
when the inhospitable doors of her Dutch home had been banged behind
her, fourteen years earlier. The only difference was that the first
expulsion had been at a time when she was comparatively without
experience in the profession of making one’s way in the world with no
other acquisition than native wit; her arts of fascination had only been
exercised to procure her own gratification of vanity, her conquests of
men mostly theoretical, for her practice had resulted in failure. Now
she had the assurance of a varied and successful experience. With
unerring instinct she chose the right spot for opening the Spanish
campaign, for this redoubtable woman was very far from confessing
personal defeat. The Ritz Hotel, which she chose for her residence, had
the recommendation of being the most expensive in the city and
accustomed to the reception of guests with a fine disregard for the days
upon which bills should be paid, so accustomed were they to unlimited
credit. It was also the rendezvous for the members of the foreign
diplomatic corps and the numerous officers attached to the various
embassies for special war-time duties. For these two reasons the Ritz
Hotel was the most appropriate headquarters for a lady whose first
requirement was an accommodating male who would alleviate her current
financial straits.
But in this rendezvous of officers the task of finding a suitable
companion proved more difficult than usual. It would be bad policy to
openly court the friendship of the German officers, as this would
naturally attract the attention of their enemies: the British would, as
usual, have been warned of her coming and would avoid her like the pest;
the Spaniards do not enjoy a high reputation among the frail because
their devotion usually halts just before the time when hotel bills have
to be paid. There remained the French. With a little manœuvring on her
part Mata Hari secured a table in the dining room next to that occupied
by the French military _attaché_. From the outset she employed the
customary artless advances by which hotel acquaintances are formed,
beginning with the commonplace greetings of neighbours as they take
their seats for the meal. With a woman of Mata Hari’s talents it is
astonishing how far a little conversation may be made to go if
accompanied by the right gesture, and she was an artist in gesture. But
on this occasion every art failed, every advance was repulsed, every
tentative movement was checked by a frigid courtesy which plainly
indicated that the French officer had no intention of swallowing the
bait which the dancer invitingly dangled before his eyes. According to
the rules of her game, the man who should most easily have fallen victim
to her charm was invincible.
This attitude raised doubts in Mata Hari’s mind. Could it be possible
that the French officials knew of her employment by the enemy? This made
an interview with the German officials a necessity; it had already
become desirable, in view of her necessity to have money. She had, and
still has, many enthusiastic admirers in Spain. One ambassador from that
country had cause to regret his relations with her, and a Senator is
still among her staunchest adherents. Within a few days she was
surrounded by her customary courtiers collected from various grades of
Spanish society. But they proved the most unsatisfactory court she had
ever had in attendance, and as helpers Mata Hari must have found them
very inefficient, since they were unable to give her any aid in
ascertaining whether she could make her way back to Paris. From the
beginning it must have been apparent that the vigilance of the British
fleet made an attempt to reach Holland well-nigh impossible. With a flat
purse and an urgent need for advice and assistance, Mata Hari turned to
the German officials for aid, and received it. Unfortunately, she
immediately got an undesirable amount of publicity which deprived her of
many former Spanish friends whose sympathies were against her employers
and who were in favour of supporting the Allies. A well-known
journalist, Ezequiel Endriz, published a series of articles called “The
Lady of the White Furs” in the popular Madrid paper _El Liberal_, in
which he spoke quite frankly of the relations between the chief of the
German espionage service in Madrid and the dancer who was staying at the
Ritz Hotel. The Allied officers in the capital were already aware that
Mata Hari had been employed by von Kroon before these articles were
published, but this showed that the dancer was burning her boats
publicly in having herself proclaimed as a German spy.
Lieutenant von Kroon, naval _attaché_ at the German Embassy, was the
head of the German espionage service in Madrid, and promptly devoted
himself to the protection of the dancer, but he does not appear to have
acted with any special display of either generosity or tact. None of the
German officials in Spain have competed for the posthumous honours of
Mata Hari’s friendship; only von Kroon had the misfortune to be found
out, and could not deny the honour if he would. As an easy method of
providing her with finances this officer decided to employ Mata Hari in
his own department until some instructions were received for her
disposal from the chiefs under whom she had been serving while in
France.
Von Bernstorff, von Papen, and Boy Ed in the United States were not the
only accredited diplomatic agents whose privileged immunity was the
cloak for illicit activities. In Holland, and Switzerland, too, the
German officials were at the heads of extensive organizations
controlling a horde of spies. Spain shared with these countries the
doubtful honour of being a fruitful breeding-ground, only in her case
she was trebly inflicted. San Sebastián was the headquarters of the
famous “Big Three” who directed German propaganda in neutral countries;
Madrid was the collecting station for information; and Barcelona, with
its anarchistic population, was a recruiting station from which Germany
was able to enroll as many spies as she desired.
Spain was a regular battle-ground for all the secret services during the
war, and some of the most thrilling dramas of spies and counter-spies
are buried in the unwritten history of that country during the four
years of world conflict. The German authorities made strenuous efforts
to swing the country over to the side of the Central Powers. How nearly
they succeeded has only recently been made public, but the English and
French Intelligence Departments were under no illusions during the time
the efforts to influence the Spaniards were being made; they knew that
nothing short of the personal influence of King Alfonso, with the
support of a relatively few loyal but influential adherents, saved the
country from participation in the war on the side of the Central Powers.
While much has been written on the skilful diplomacy displayed by the
Allied representatives in restraining the Spanish people from taking the
step which would have caused Spain to sink from the position of a second
rate power to one still lower, no one has ever done justice to the lady
who accomplished more than the entire Diplomatic Corps in keeping the
country neutral. The inimitable Mistinguette, still the idol of Parisian
theatre-goers, was by far the most effective diplomatist in the field.
Her startling exploits in Switzerland as a French secret agent would
make a volume of delightful adventure, spiced with ready wit, but her
task in Spain was a graver affair, calling for an infinite tact, charm,
and intelligence. One day the French nation, not usually ungenerous in
its tribute to these qualities and never ungallant to ladies of spirit,
might remove a reproach by acknowledging the invaluable services
performed by Mlle. Mistinguette, even if it does not reward her for
them.
Lieutenant von Kroon took Mata Hari into his employ as well as into the
intimacy of his friendship. He sent her on another delicate mission to
Barcelona which affected the internal relations of his department, and
also to remove her from the close observation of the French and English
agents. During her absence, efforts were made to learn whether it was
safe for the Red Dancer to return to Paris, where her services could be
more advantageously employed. Spain was not the stage for such a
talented performer. The replies being favourable, if any were received,
the spy was recalled from Barcelona and given instructions to proceed to
her post. As Mata Hari was thoroughly convinced that this was not a safe
proceeding, she consulted the Dutch consul, Mr. de With, to learn
whether he had received any notification that she would not be received
favourably in France.
This interview took place at the Ritz Hotel and the talk began by Mata
Hari requesting the official to procure for her some funds which stood
to her credit at a Paris bank. This service, she was informed, could
only be performed by the authorities on the spot, but the dancer never
appealed to them for aid or advice. She entertained the representative
of her native land to a detailed (though not more than usually
authentic) account of her entire life, and finally invited him to
furnish her with a special letter of recommendation to the French
authorities in Madrid, as she had some doubts about her reception at the
frontier. The consul wisely declined to do this, advising Mata Hari that
if she had a tranquil conscience there was nothing to fear, but that
this tranquil state of mind was a necessity for all neutrals who desired
to travel in the belligerent countries. The spy indignantly retorted
that she was in no need of advice of that nature, her assumed anger only
serving to convince an official who had come to the meeting ready armed
with suspicion of her innocent intention, because in 1915 he had seen
her frequently in the society of German officers in the Hotel Victoria
in Amsterdam.
However, the authorities in Amsterdam wanted their powerful spy back in
Paris, where she had to make the fullest use of her wiles in obtaining
information on the production of tanks as a weapon of war. The
accommodating von Kroon may or may not have been reluctant to part with
an intelligent collaborator and a charming companion. Their friendship
had ripened now to affection, for they occupied adjoining rooms at the
Ritz Hotel. The young naval officer had given her tangible tokens of
this affection in the form of jewellery, but when the time came for her
departure Mata Hari became a practical woman of affairs (she was known
among the German agents in Spain as “The Business Man”) and returned the
jewels to her lover with the request that he convert them into cash. Von
Kroon either could not or would not finance her from his private purse.
Mata Hari wanted more convenient payment for her favours and her
labours. Either at her suggestion or upon his own initiative the naval
_attaché_ sent a message to Amsterdam, which was headquarters of the
spy’s section, requesting the dispatch of 15,000 marks (about $3,000)
for her use. This satisfied both parties.
There was no real indiscretion in the dispatch of this message.
Everything possible was done to make its transmission safe. When distant
Legations desired to communicate with each other speedily they made use
of radio, but since all these messages could be picked from the air by
an enemy receiving station, von Kroon put this particular message into
his private diplomatic cipher, so that it would be unintelligible to any
listener unprovided with the key to his code. In addition, since the
utmost secrecy is maintained even in intra-departmental correspondence
in the Intelligence service, the wording was chosen with special care to
be baffling to anyone who was not familiar with their methods. Von Kroon
simply asked that money be sent to the spy H21 through the usual
channels.
Seemingly no blame is attached to him for the outcome of his commonplace
demand. Yet, when he put his name to that radio message he had signed
Mata Hari’s death warrant.
_Chapter Thirteen_
There are some points in Mata Hari’s experiences as a spy where one has
to pause in utter bewilderment until the presentation of all the related
facts clarifies the situation. This return to Paris is one of the most
perplexing incidents of her career. There is much about her conduct
after the deportation from England which puzzled those whose duty it was
to watch her and which suggests that there was some other motive than
the necessity for information which inspired the German secret service
to drive her back to Paris.
Von Kroon cannot have been ignorant of her danger; he must have known
that an agent entrusted with a secret mission such as Mata Hari had
confided to her by the French, and, failing to accomplish it, ought
naturally to report failure at the earliest possible moment. Mata Hari
neglected to report either to the French representatives at Madrid or
directly to the Second Bureau, as she could so easily have done. Instead
of approaching him officially, she tried to cultivate a casual
acquaintance in a hotel with the French military _attaché_, who could
have obtained her admission to France without delay or interference.
This neglect is incomprehensible if Mata Hari ever seriously entertained
the idea of returning to Paris. Indeed, there is good ground for
supposing that when she volunteered to join the French secret service it
was because she was aware that their agents were observing her and that
she hoped to escape from France by accepting some mission which would
obtain for her a safe conduct out of the country. While in England she
was still in danger of arrest, but in Spain she secured the safe refuge
of a neutral country.
It is believed, therefore, that when Mata Hari dispatched her precious
list of supposed spies in Belgium to headquarters in Amsterdam she
considered her duty discharged and the matter closed at the time when
she was safely out of the clutches of the Second Bureau. Her conduct in
Spain supports this view. There was no attempt to report the failure of
her confidential mission or to establish herself in official eyes.
Instead, she openly accepted the head of the German secret service as
her lover and accepted assignments to confidential duties which were
partially known to the Dutch consul when he diplomatically recommended
her not to attempt to re-enter Paris. Her employment was so generally
known that it is incomprehensible her employers were not aware of its
widespread acceptance. They had sufficient experience of the Allied
secret services to know that they were not so stupid as to have
overlooked what was obvious to others with less reason for suspicion.
Why, then, in face of these ominous signs, did Mata Hari persist in
making the attempt? But above all, why did the German officials permit
her to assume the risk of returning to Paris?
Several of her more ardent admirers turn to this crucial point in Mata
Hari’s life and point to it as conclusive proof that she was innocent of
any treacherous act against France. They contend that the absolute lack
of precaution other than having her passports in order demonstrates that
she had nothing to fear. No one has reproached Mata Hari with being a
fool, yet this return to Paris in face of the alleged betrayal would
indicate that she had taken leave of the common sense that they knew she
possessed. Such an inconceivably stupid action is not in accordance with
their knowledge of the dancer and the divine Brahma.
Several reasons have been advanced to explain this incautious behaviour.
It has been said that Mata Hari had developed a great contempt for the
Second Bureau in the growth of her self-confidence and the increase of
her vanity after so long deceiving them. It has been asserted that she
was assured in Madrid by German agents that there was no suspicion in
Paris of her occupation. But this is an absurdity in face of her neglect
to communicate her failure to accomplish the mission she had been sent
to perform, although some secret agents hold that France had no means of
checking whether she had reached the agents in Belgium or not. They had
this means, that they had asked the London police to ensure that she did
not fulfil her mission, and the English service had carried out the
request.
The real truth is that Mata Hari did not wish to return to Paris. She
knew the attendant danger. But she was ordered to go and go she must, or
pay the penalty for refusing to obey orders. She struggled ineffectively
to secure a permanent place on von Kroon’s staff until she could make
her way to Holland, but German secret-service orders admit of no denial.
There are too many terrible examples of the calamities which inevitably
followed a refusal to obey orders to induce any agent to persist in a
stubborn attitude. At the time of their engagement every spy is given
clearly to understand that implicit obedience is demanded and, if it is
not forthcoming, there is no mercy to be expected. When the traitor
Estève volunteered at Barcelona for service he was given a mission to
France that he knew exposed him to certain, or almost certain death, but
his objections were frankly opposed by the threat that unless he made
the attempt he would be handed over to the French authorities as a
deserter and a traitor.
Had Mata Hari not been instructed in the danger of her refusal to carry
out her orders, she had, nevertheless, the example of vengeance executed
upon a close personal friend whose death has already been alluded to in
this history, Marussia Destrelles. In order to appreciate how Mata Hari
overcame her reluctance to return to Paris one only requires to know how
the German secret service carried out its vengeance when necessary.