Chapter V: Part 5

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.

The most popular plan was for the spy, who felt he had incurred suspicion, to march boldly into the headquarters of the enemy and volunteer for service in _their_ interests. So completely was this plan worked out that the agents were actually furnished with suitable information for their reports should they be engaged. This information was usually of the most terrible nature imaginable. The Germans were able to expose people whom they desired to see punished, some for quite harmless reasons, others for spite, and in not a few cases so that superior agents might be spared the necessity of paying for services which had become unavailable or undesirable.

At first blush it would seem that such an audacious thing as offering to serve as a spy would allay suspicion but, on the contrary, it had the very opposite effect. The German espionage is probably unique in this respect of employing volunteer spies. Not only does it account for the ease by which other nations have “planted” their own agents in that service, but it makes compulsory the employment of a large number of other agents to keep a watchful eye on these volunteers whose loyalty has been submitted to no severe test. No other nation readily recruits its agents in this way. The work is too confidential, demands such unquestioned trust and imposes such heavy responsibilities, that the agents are most often selected with great care from among men whose loyalty and faithfulness are beyond question. In not a few cases a man’s patriotism is the only thing which can be appealed to in order to induce him to overcome a natural prejudice for a profession which so often implies the betrayal of people whose trust he has deliberately sought. Thus, when the agent has already been subjected to test before employment and has been found to possess the necessary qualifications, it is not so necessary to subject him to a perpetual supervision as was the case in the German system, where many notorious wrongdoers were employed and where enemy deserters were greedily encouraged. Certainly these types proved easy to discipline because they were in constant fear of exposure by their paymasters should their services become either undesirable or unsatisfactory. On the other hand, the police force necessary to control their doubtful agents had to be elaborate and it proved to be one of the most efficient departments of the service and many of their best agents were so employed. For the most part they were entirely devoid of scruples; they had no compunction in denouncing the men they watched, and denunciation frequently followed some harmless deviation from the strict path of duty.

To volunteer for secret-service work on behalf of a nation that recruits its agents with some degree of care is to incur the immediate suspicion that some ulterior motive inspires the action. In spite of this doctrine, which was so generally accepted by the Intelligence services outside of Germany, that the Germans themselves could hardly have been wholly unacquainted with it, they continued to instruct their agents to volunteer for enrollment in the enemy secret service should they ever have reason to believe that they were under suspicion.

Naturally, the agent was placed in a very difficult situation. First, the counter-espionage agent of his own service, charged with supervising him, might imagine that the agent was acting falsely and take drastic measures for disciplining him. Second, the agent had to accept whatever mission was allotted to him by his new employers, and after making pretence of performing it had to present a report which must bear the scrutiny of experts. He was, therefore, running a double risk. The work had one very useful purpose, however, in revealing those points on which the enemy were most interested, and for this reason served its purpose. The agent, having volunteered for service, usually reported this fact immediately to his superior, to whom he also communicated the nature of the information he was required to provide. If the German headquarters approved of his action they supplied the man with the necessary replies to meet his requirements, and thus deceived the enemy. But spies working in two camps are never trusted until they have given unmistakable proof of their loyalty and, on the Allied side at least, an offer of enlistment was usually enough to bring a person under grave suspicion of having been sent by the other side. If the volunteer was known to be in the employ of the German service, the action taken greatly depended upon what purpose he could be made to serve.

How terribly dangerous the course of volunteering for this service sometimes proved to be is illustrated by the case of Princess Wisnievsky. Although entitled to the rank of princess, she was not born to the purple; it was an acquisition by marriage. Her beginnings were so humble that she began at the very opposite end of the social ladder, for she was deserted by her unknown parents in the streets of Paris and was educated at public expense until she was in a position to look after herself. Being of an enterprising nature, the future princess came to an early decision that a life of independence was preferable to the irksome restraint of a state orphanage. She took the first opportunity to embark on a career. After many vicissitudes she became a rival to Mata Hari in her profession. At the age of thirty-three she resembled a miniature League of Nations, having taken as lovers an Egyptian, an Argentine, a Serbian, an Italian, an Englishman, and a German, before marrying an indisputable Polish prince who was a naturalized Italian. To complete this lady’s amazing international complications, it is worth mentioning that she finally was lost to view in a Spanish prison, charged with the murder of a Canadian.

The German lover was a member of his country’s secret service and, having found that the countess (it was before her marriage and she had elevated herself to the nobility with a title of her own choice) could be of use to him in his work, he induced the feather-brained lady to enroll as a member of the same service. Her romantic mind promptly responded to the lure of adventure and she considered herself particularly fitted for the execution of confidential missions among the diplomats of Europe. But it was not long before the indiscretions in which she indulged brought her under the unfavourable notice of the French secret police. She was at the time editing a magazine which specialized in foreign politics, a labour which was found to cloak her spying under the guise of diplomacy. Her work was done so clumsily that it was felt most advantageous to allow her to continue in spreading misinformation through her review. For some time the princess was a joke among the men of the French secret service, until one day one of them frightened her into volunteering for the work of a spy in French interests. She was employed because the French were anxious to learn what the enemy wished them to believe upon certain subjects. They surmised that the lady would apply to her German employers for the correct form of the information she was asked to furnish, and by following her it was hoped to learn who was the head of her group. There was nothing to learn until the lady herself suggested how she should be employed. On being granted permission to act independently, she went direct to San Sebastián, where she was given a very complete report upon the situation in Spain, precisely as the German authorities wished that situation to be understood by France. At that time Spain was in the predicament of not knowing which of the belligerents to support, but the San Sebastián propagandists were giving to the voice of the Spanish people a strong German accent, and it was hoped that the French might be deceived by sending back the double spy with a false account of the situation which pretended to come from some of the diplomats who contributed to the princess’ review. Knowing its origin, the French were able to understand a difficult situation much better with the aid of the comments which the princess furnished.

Between Mata Hari and the Princess Wisnievsky there was a vast difference in spite of the few points of similarity in their lives. The titled lady was never dangerous, but Mata Hari was an artist, and that profession demands intelligence of a very high order. Had she been left to obtain information on the spy system in Belgium, it is probable that she would have tried another method than this, employing a greater finesse. Instead, it bears the unmistakable mark of the German secret service and its inability to discard outworn methods.

One morning Mata Hari called at the office of the Second Bureau and asked to interview a responsible officer. It is doubtful whether any visitor ever reached the inner sanctum of this almost impenetrable department with less delay. Not one, but a whole group of responsible officers awaited her pleasure. Each member of the group knew of Mata’s employment as a spy and the deadly measure of her achievement, and all hoped that sooner or later she would commit some indiscretion which would enable them to penetrate the intricate defences she had erected about herself and so grasp the tangible proof of her guilt. But for the moment there was only one fear that was common to them all, and that was the fear that some overzealous agent in pressing his enquiries had caused her to suspect that the Second Bureau were interested in what she was doing, and that the visit was merely the spy’s customary method of self-protection, which would be followed by an increase of precaution that would remove from their possession the means of supervising her correspondence. If Mata Hari changed her channel of conveying information, the Second Bureau would have to begin again at the beginning. However, their interest in her arrival was interpreted by the visitor as a tribute to her personal popularity and aroused no suspicion. No woman is proof against her own vanity.

Mata Hari explained that she wished to accept employment in the French secret service and recited her qualifications for the work, mentioning her numerous acquaintances in influential positions in Berlin and other places.

“But,” asked Captain Ledoux, “you will pardon us if we approach this question carefully. What is your motive, madame, in volunteering for this work? You are a Dutch subject. It cannot be patriotism which urges you to undertake the task, and obviously there must be some strong motive which inspires you to perform work that might end in your death.”

“There is no question of my patriotism, _mon capitaine_. Nor is there any question of treachery, for Germany is not my country. My sympathies are with France and I am willing to work for her provided you will pay for my services. I am in desperate need of money.”

This was certainly a strange answer, because Mata Hari had just made some fresh dancing engagements for which she was well paid and she had not spent all the money obtained for the sale of her furniture. Besides, she had other means of restoring her finances that were less hazardous than engaging in the task of spying against Germany.

“Since you suspect that, because I am only a neutral, I may not be animated by motives of loyalty to France,” she continued, “I will give you proofs of my sincere attachment to your country. Yes, I will give you those proofs before asking to be assigned any work in your service.”

After a little questioning the officers found that there was little information they could gather on points which they supposed she might have been instructed to inform them. But they did not know the tremendous extent of her secret knowledge.

“Do you know, messieurs, how the Moors are being supplied with arms?” she asked when their questions had ceased.

“Yes, we know that.”

“You know that they are being landed from submarines, but do you know where and when? Naturally you do not or you would have stopped it. Then I will tell you if you think that it would be of interest.”

Interest!

Since the beginning of the war the German propagandists had been stirring up trouble in Morocco and Algeria among the native population, who, as recently as 1912, had shown their willingness to revolt by brutally murdering the Europeans as a protest against the French protectorate. In order to encourage them to take further steps of open antagonism which would detain troops for the maintenance of order, the German authorities were providing a supply of modern rifles for the most intransigeant. This was regarded as such a severe threat to the French colony, in view of the fact that every available soldier was to be withdrawn from Morocco for service on the French front, that espionage agents had worked laboriously but unsuccessfully to discover how the weapons were admitted to the country. That Mata Hari should offer to furnish this information filled them with blank amazement. However, one of the officers assured her that if she could offer enlightenment on the problem there could be no further reason to doubt her loyalty.

“Then, messieurs, if you will watch the harbour of Mehediya during the early days of March you will be rewarded. Submarines run their cargoes of rifles into that harbour before taking their station at the entrance to the Mediterranean sea.”

“That is exceedingly interesting, madame, if true. Suppose you allow us a little time to ascertain the truth of the statement. If we find that what you say is correct you will be given a mission in our service. Would you also mind telling us how you, living here in Paris, should have come into possession of such very confidential information?”

“I am frequently required to visit the homes of diplomats to provide entertainment to their guests and with some of them I have an intimacy which enables me to hear the conversations at their dinner tables. Those diplomats are not always as discreet as they should be, messieurs. It was at a recent dinner that I heard this conversation about the submarines and I thought it might be of value to you.”

After the lapse of only a few days Mata Hari was summoned to appear at the office of the Second Bureau, but this time she was not admitted with quite so much ease as on her first visit. The French were surer of her now. When at last she was admitted to see Captain Ledoux and his colonel, she was informed that the information concerning the German submarines had been proved correct. The previous night two of these craft had been sunk in an attempt to land rifles at Mehediya.

“We have had sufficient proof of your integrity,” said the chief of the Second Bureau, “and if you continue as you have begun you will be of the greatest value to us. All that now remains is to utilize your services to the best advantage. Have you any suggestion to make?”

“Well, _mon colonel_, I have recently signed a contract to dance in Brussels. You know that as a Dutch subject I am privileged to move about in the territories of the countries at war. It is easy for me to get to Brussels from my own country, especially as I have influential friends who will help me. What could I do in Brussels? Do you have difficulty in conveying instructions to your agents there? One of my diplomat friends told me that it was exceedingly difficult to get the required kind of information from the agents in occupied territory, because it was so hard to tell them what was required. I suggest, therefore, _mon colonel_, that you employ me in carrying instructions to the agents whom you have already there. Being a woman, I might not know just what to look for if I were left to myself, but if there are others to do the work I would gladly get in touch with them to carry out your instructions.”

“That is a good idea. Prepare yourself for the journey then, and when you are ready to depart we will give you a list of our agents in Belgium with whom we wish to communicate, and a copy of the instructions we would like to have conveyed to them.”

In such simple fashion did Mata Hari carry out the instructions of her employers and obtain for them the invaluable documents which meant so much to the weary espionage agents confronted with the growing audacity of the spies whose actions were invariably obscured by the willing help of countless civilians. When the precious list of twelve spies was handed to Mata Hari, the officer of the Second Bureau conducting the business impressed upon her the necessity of guarding it with her life, should such an extreme penalty be exacted in its defence. The value of that piece of paper to the Germans, he said, was incalculable, and if they knew it was in her possession there was not the slightest doubt that they would make strenuous efforts to relieve her of it. The instructions were not less valuable because they would convey to the enemy knowledge of those points upon which the French most required information and naturally those particular things would be guarded with redoubled care. The officer then wished her good fortune on her first mission for the French.

Of course Mata Hari did not take any special precautions to conceal those valuable documents about her person. It was simpler and much quicker for the purpose for which they were intended to put them into a letter sent by prearranged channels directly to the espionage leaders in Holland. Her own journey must, of necessity, be delayed because it was inevitable in those war days that she must travel through England, where she would take passage on the _Hook of Holland_ steamer. There was no alternative to that journey when one was in France. The risk of exposing herself to the London police was enormously reduced by the mission she was sent on, because the officer at the Second Bureau had already told her that she would be “signalled” to them, whose duty it would then be to facilitate her passage, but by sending the letter containing the required information through her secret and safe private channels it would arrive before she did.

What the English police thought about their visitor has not been said. It is not to be supposed that the presence of a spy in their midst causes any consternation to the police, more especially when that spy’s arrival has been “signalled” by other police. To know that a suspected or known spy is arriving at Victoria gives the long-suffering London “Bobbie” a feeling of joy. It saves him a vast amount of labour in tracking him down when the job is reduced to one of mere watching, an art in which the men of Scotland Yard excel. Once they have located their man they stick to him with the tenacity of the bulldog which is the symbol of their breed, and they miss nothing of the other people whom he meets. They could appreciate the situation in which Mata Hari was placed because they made such good use of the double spy themselves, always, or nearly always, to their own advantage. But Mata Hari was a problem. They did not like her, they knew too much of her history to ever develope any fondness for her and, to be quite frank, they did not believe that her sudden conversion was sincere. However, they were prepared to accommodate their French colleagues.

When Mata Hari arrived in England it is quite probable that she made careful note of the war material collected in the harbour at Dover, where she landed. She had an unexpected stroke of good luck in being detained a few days in London, where she was able to observe the effects of the air raids and to note some of the measures taken to combat them. This was information which she had been instructed by the Germans to gather in Paris, so that it must be of equal value if applied to London. Her detention in the English capital was not altogether unavoidable, but since the English police just wanted to make quite certain that there was no one in London to whom she might apply in case of necessity, they got the clerk at the travel bureau to inform her that there were so many applicants for berths on the _Hook of Holland_ steamer that she would have to wait some days before one could be allotted to her. When it was certain that she had nothing to reveal, the London police had no further motive in delaying her, so Mata Hari was informed that another boat was available for her journey and that the police would make the necessary arrangements for her. The obliging men went further; they escorted her to the boat and saw that everything was made comfortable and convenient for her.

This obstacle happily surmounted, Mata Hari was able to retire to her berth before the ship pulled out of the Medway under its escort, with the satisfied feeling that she had outwitted her oldest enemies, had completely deceived the French, and had performed another of those surprisingly brilliant feats of espionage which are associated with her name and which read like romances. A safe haven lay ahead. In Holland she would be received gratefully by her employers, there would no longer be the strain of living under constant fear of danger, especially that danger that creeps up from behind. Instead there would be reunion with her lover from whom she had been so long separated and for whom she had worked in exile with unfailing success in a series of the boldest exploits; there were innumerable old friends of that officer class she had learned to adore; and, besides, she was weary of Paris; she needed a change of pleasures and a variety in dissipation. Of course, there could now be no return to Paris until she went in the wake of the victorious German troops to enjoy a truly Roman triumph, with her former French lovers as her trophies. It was a pleasant prospect.

_Chapter Eleven_

The officers of the Second Bureau were not really quite such easy dupes as Mata Hari had supposed them to be. True, her first visit to their departmental offices had produced a momentary pang of disappointment which was speedily dispelled. The reason the spy had given for approaching them was her urgent need for money, a very plausible excuse for one with her extravagant tastes, but it was learned on enquiry that her bank account enjoyed an unaccustomed balance. Thus relieved of their first anxiety, that their zeal had alarmed the spy and that she would become more cautious than ever, and persuaded that there was a dangerous underlying motive for her extraordinary conduct, they decided to allow the affair to follow a natural course in the expectation that something more might be learned.

The news of the German submarines increased their perplexity. To anyone unaware of the tortuous methods of secret services this piece of information and the use made of it presents special interest. The betrayal seems inexplicable. Here was a woman who pretended to have been working in the comparative isolation of a field ambulance in the forward area, and had been performing in Spanish theatres, volunteering knowledge which had eluded the search of the cleverest agents in the French service working with infinitely greater resources. If the information was false no good purpose could be served in surrendering it. If it was true, how could she have obtained knowledge of it? Certainly none of the neutral diplomats in Paris was in any position to become acquainted with such a treasured secret as the submarine cruises, but even if she had obtained the knowledge from an outside source Mata Hari had been a spy too long to be unconscious of the risks she ran by committing such a breach of confidence. It was suicide if unauthorized. Information of this nature was so jealously guarded that only those immediately concerned with the allocation of the duties could ever have possession of it (often the submarine commanders received sealed orders), and to share such secrets was equivalent to an admission that she was in the innermost counsels of the enemy. We have already said that it is futile to apply the ordinary standards of conduct to the secret-service agent. Here is further proof. The revelation of such information to gain the confidence of the enemy is a method advocated in the German manual of military Intelligence.

The betrayal is inexplicable to anyone unaware of the prodigious lengths 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.