Part 8 (2/2)
He came promptly and we sat down in the library for a conversation which you will admit had its delicate points.
He began by saying that he supposed I had seen the newspaper accounts of what happened to him at Falmouth; that he was greatly surprised and chagrined about the matter; that he had been entirely ignorant of the contents of the doc.u.ments found in his possession; that he had imagined--indeed he had been distinctly told--that they were innocent private letters relating to personal and domestic affairs; that he did not know there was any impropriety in conveying such letters; that if he had suspected their nature or known that they included official despatches he would never have taken them.
I replied that his personal statement was enough for me on that point, but that it seemed to throw rather a dark shadow on the character and conduct of his friends in the German and Austrian Emba.s.sies who had knowingly exposed his innocence to such a risk. I added that it was probably with a view to obtaining his help in clearing up the matter that the Department of State had instructed me to take up his pa.s.sport.
”But have you the legal right to do that?”
”Under American law, yes, unquestionably.”
”But under Dutch law?”
”Probably not. But I hope it will not be necessary to invoke that law.
Simply to inform the Dutch Foreign Minister of the presence of an American whose pa.s.sport had been revoked but who refused to give it up, would be sufficient for my purpose.”
He reflected for a moment, and then said, smiling:
”I don't refuse to give it up. Here it is. Now tell me what I shall do without a pa.s.sport.
”Thank you. Fortunately I have authority to give you an emergency pa.s.sport, good for a month, and covering the return voyage to America.”
”But I don't want to go there. I want to go on to Berlin.”
”Unfortunately I fear that will be impossible. Your old pa.s.sport is invalid and will not carry you over the Dutch border. Your new pa.s.sport cannot be made out for Germany. Your best course is to return home.”
”I see. But have you any right to arrest me and send me to America?”
”None whatever, my dear sir. Please don't misunderstand me. This is just a bit of friendly advice. 'Your country needs you.' You naturally want an early chance to tell Was.h.i.+ngton what you have told me. The Rotterdam is a very comfortable s.h.i.+p, and she sails for New York the day after to-morrow. I have already bespoken an excellent room for you. Do you accept?”
”Yes, and thank you for the way you have put the matter. But do you think they will arrest me when I get to New York?”
”Probably not. But to help in forestalling that unpleasant possibility I will cable Was.h.i.+ngton that you are coming at once, of your own free will, and anxious to tell the whole story.”
So he went, and I saw him off on the Rotterdam, a pallid and downcast figure. I pitied him. It seemed strange that any one should ever trust that unscrupulous, callous, thick-pated diplomatic-secret-service machine which is always ready to expose a too confiding and admiring friend to danger or disgrace in order to serve its imperious necessities.
Holland, of course, owing to its geographical situation, was a regular nest of German espionage. Other spies were there, too, but they were much less in evidence than the Germans. Of the tricks and the manners of the latter I had some picturesque experiences which I do not feel at liberty to narrate. The Department of State has been informed of them, and has no doubt put the information safely away with a lot of other things which it knows but does not think it expedient or necessary to tell until the proper time.
But there is no reason why the simple little tale of the futile attempt to plant two German spies in my household at The Hague should not be told. One of the men in our domestic service, a Hollander, had been obliged to leave and we wanted to fill his place. This was difficult because the requirements of the Dutch army service claimed such a large number of the younger men.
The first who applied for the vacant place professed to be a Belgian.
Perhaps he was. On demand he produced his ”papers”--birth-certificate, baptismal registry, several Pa.s.sier-scheine, and so forth. But down in a corner on the back of one of the papers was a dim blue stamp--”Imperial German Marine.” What was the meaning of this? What had the Potsdam High-Sea Fleet to do with this peaceable overland traveller from Belgium? Voluble excuses, but no satisfactory explanation. I told him that I feared he was too experienced for the place.
The second who applied was an unquestionable Dutchman, young, good- looking, intelligent. Papers in perfect order. Present service with a well-known pro-German family. Previous service of one year with a lady who was one of my best friends--the wife of a high government official.
I rang her up on the telephone and asked if she could tell me anything about A. B., who had been in service with her for a year. A second of silence, then the answer: ”Yes, a good deal, but not on the telephone, please. Come around to tea this afternoon.” Madame L. then told me that while the young man was clean, sober, and industrious, he had been found rummaging among her husband's official papers, in a room which he was forbidden to enter, and had been caught several times listening at the keyhole of doors while private conferences were going on.
It seemed to me that a young man with such an uncontrollable thirst for knowledge would not be suited for the very simple service which would be required of him in our household.
Afterward, traces of both of these men were found which led unmistakably to the lair of the chief spider of the German secret service at The Hague. The incident was a very small one. But, after all, life is made up of small incidents with a connected meaning.
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