Part 17

“A cipher message has been sent from the Navy Department to San Francisco directing the Cruiser _Charleston_ to proceed to Manila with 500 men and machinery for repairs to Dewey. A long cipher has been received from Dewey at Department at 3.30 o’clock. They are translating it now. Cannot find it out yet. Have heard important news respecting movements of colliers and cruisers. _Newark_ at Norfolk Navy Yard; also about the new Holland boat, as to what they intend to do with her and her destination, I shall go to Norfolk soon to find important news. My address will be Norfolk House, Norfolk, Virginia, but shall not go until Tuesday.”

This was signed “G. D.” and was marked “in haste.” The first move of Chief Wilkie was to make sure that the man was guarded. His investigations proved that there was no possibility of “G. D.” escaping from Washington. Then he got into communication with the Secretary of War and the Secretary of the Navy and informed them of the information that had been intercepted. The immediate effect of this was to tighten the discipline in each of these Departments. All unauthorized persons were to be kept out of the building and a strict watch was kept upon all of the employees. The inference was that some one in the Navy Department had been co-operating with “G. D.” and that this person had supplied him with information upon his return from Canada.

The question of taking the spy into custody was next considered. It was decided that this should be done at once. As it was a matter that technically came under the military power of the Government, Chief Wilkie made application to the War Department, and as a result of this Captain Saye of the Eighth Artillery, with a corporal and one other man, was ordered to report to him for duty. Thus fortified, the head of the Secret Service Division started for the apartment on E Street. The little procession going from the Treasury Department attracted very little attention, and the passers-by did not realize what was going on. But all of those in the little group understood the importance of their mission so far as the Government was concerned.

It was eleven o’clock at night and when they arrived at the house occupied by “G. D.” they discovered a light burning in the second-story room. It was evident that the spy was continuing his habits of industry. The Chief gained admission without any difficulty, and, followed by the others, made for the upper room. The supposed Alexander Cree was sitting at his desk engaged in writing. He seemed surprised at the intrusion, but received his callers politely. Evidently his calling had accustomed him to visits at all hours of the day and night.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “what can I do for you?”

“To start with,” said the spokesman of the invading party, “we would like to have the letter you are writing and all of the documents you have in that desk.”

For the first time he showed surprise. He smiled faintly and then rejoined:

“Perhaps you will let me know the cause of this unexpected visit.”

“Certainly. We have come to arrest you as a spy!”

Cree turned very white. He steadied himself by resting against the side of a bureau. It was some moments before he was able to speak, and then moistening his lips with the tip of his tongue he murmured:

“Who are you, and what authority have you got for talking in this manner?”

“It’s no use, young man,” was the quick retort, “we have the goods on you, and if you have any doubt about it we can show you the letter which you mailed to Montreal and which has been intercepted by the United States Government.”

The spy looked at the speaker helplessly. His white face contrasted sharply with his black moustache. For a moment he swayed uncertainly, and fell to the floor in a heap. He was a most abject spectacle, and it was necessary to carry him out of the room. That night he spent in a cell, facing a charge of treason against the Government, and wondering what his fate would be.

A mass of compromising letters and papers were found in the room. From some of these it was proven that “G. D.” was a naturalized citizen and a former yeoman on the cruiser _Brooklyn_. What had prompted him to turn against his own country? Could it have been some grievance, real or fancied? Was it Spanish gold? Chief Wilkie discovered many interesting things among the papers that were found in the room on E Street. Among them was a slip of paper which contained what is known as Slater’s Code. It said: “To send add 100; to receive subtract 100.” This was the key to the cipher which he was to employ in sending messages to his employers. The cipher contained thousands of ordinary words arranged alphabetically and having fixed consecutive numbers of five figures each. Why he had not employed it in the compromising communication to Montreal was never known. Possibly over-confidence had made him careless for the moment.

In the meantime Chief Wilkie had his organization working overtime. The United States map in his office containing the little steel pins to indicate the position of his men in different parts of the United States and Canada was consulted repeatedly during the next twenty-four hours. Telegrams in code were sent in all directions. As the result another spy was captured in Tampa, Florida. By one of the curious freaks of fate this man was critically ill when he was taken into custody and died shortly afterwards. But the greatest activity was in Canada. It was learned that the Dorchester Street house had only been leased a few days before, and that it was intended as the rendezvous of the Spanish spies in Canada. It was clear that a private detective agency had been organized in Canada for the purpose of obtaining information concerning the movements of the American troops.

Another amazing thing that was discovered in connection with this spy system related to the manner in which these men were to work. They were to join the United States army and to go with the army of invasion into Cuba, Porto Rico and the Philippines. When the opportunity offered they were to permit themselves to be captured by the Spanish soldiers. After furnishing all of the information possible to the enemy they were to return to the American lines and continue their system of espionage. All of this was worked out with the greatest attention to detail. Each one of the spies was supplied with a plain gold or silver ring. On this was engraved the words “Confienza Augustine.” That was to be their means of identification to the Spanish Generals. Needless to say, the discovery of the plot nipped that scheme in the bud, and rendered it useless for the remainder of the war.

But what Chief Wilkie and his associates desired more than anything else was some evidence to directly connect the members of the late Spanish Embassy with the operations of “G. D.” and the plot in Canada. It came sooner than was expected. One of the Secret Service operatives who investigated the Dorchester Street house found some letters which established this connection. One of them was a communication from Ramon Carranza to Señor Don Jose Gomez Ymas. It was short and sweet. It said: “We have had bad luck for they have captured two of our best spies—one in Washington and the other in Tampa.”

This made it appear that the former Naval Attaché was quite as indiscreet as the supposed Alexander Cree. At all events, the evidence in the case was furnished to Lord Pauncefoote, the English Ambassador to Washington, and, upon his representations, the Canadian authorities made it their business to deport the entire Spanish outfit.

Two days later the Chief of the Secret Service Division went to the jail at the National Capital for the purpose of interviewing the man who had permitted himself to be made a dupe of the Spanish Government. When the door of the cell was opened a dreadful sight met his eyes:

“G. D.,” the chief spy of the Spanish-American war, had hanged himself—a dramatic and horrible climax to one of the most interesting incidents in American history.

XIX

CARL LODY AND SPIES OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST WAR

The world’s greatest armed conflict which began with Austria’s declaration of war against Servia on July 28, 1914, and which has since involved most of the important nations of the earth, has produced hundreds, nay, thousands of spies, but the very secrecy which is so necessary to their work has prevented many of them from looming conspicuously in the public eye.

The grim old Tower of London could tell many a sensational tale if its stone walls had the power of speech. At an early period of the war it was estimated that at least a dozen spies had been executed in the Tower.

That being the case, how many spies were shot without the formality of being brought to the capital for trial? How many were executed after hurried “drum-head” court martials? It is safe to say that hundreds perished and that most of them will go down into history unnamed and unknown, unhonored and unsung.

Every one of the nations at war has utilized spies of one class or another. They were captured within the lines disguised as women, as war correspondents—even as priests. In the very heart of the city of London they were caught masquerading as waiters, as cab drivers, and even as clerks in establishments, both manufacturing and dispensing munitions of war.

Now and then there were glimpses of these war tragedies which for reasons of expediency are destined never to see the light of day. In spite of the censors there were fragments of stories teeming with red blood and human interest, even if not of historic importance.

The censorship on war news was strict, but it did not begin to compare with that applied to everything connected with the apprehension, trial and execution of spies. As a rule, there was no mention at all of these tragic affairs, although earlier in the war readers of the London newspapers might have found in the corner of an inside column two or three lines merely announcing that another foreign spy had met his doom. Who can describe the pathos and tragedy lurking behind those few words of cold type?

One day a squad of soldiers escorted a prisoner into the grim gates of the Tower. He had been caught making tracings of a barracks somewhere, and he was going to suffer the penalty of espionage—which is death. It is true that he was assured of a trial that day, but he saw inscribed over the entrance to the Tower, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.” One could see the ashy look on the poor devil’s face as he went through the Traitors’ Gate, and one could imagine all of the details of the impending business after he should be escorted into the Lower Green, where all of the official executions take place.

Women spies were numerous in this war, and as a rule they were more successful at this business than the men. One of them had herself banished as a suspicious character from the German border. This was done in order to deceive the English more easily. At one of the barracks outside of London she soon won a host of admirers among the younger officers. It happened that Kitchener was due about this time on a visit of inspection and the woman determined to exercise her wiles on him. Did she succeed? Let the man who tells the story answer that question.

“One glance at the gaunt figure, rugged face and piercing eyes of the man who had avenged Chinese Gordon robbed her of her assurance. She realized that this man, instead of being a puppet, would be a master. She fled for her life and was never seen again.”

Some time after that Felice Schmidt made her appearance at Marseilles in the rôle of an apple seller. She was in that neighborhood for many days and evidently was acquainting herself with the fortifications with a view to informing the Germans of the conditions existing there. She was young and beautiful and spoke French with a fluency that deceived the soldiers and the natives of the town. The French soldiers, with characteristic gallantry, treated her with much consideration. But one day she was found in a secluded spot making a sketch of one of the big guns. This led to an investigation. Incriminating papers were found in her possession. She was tried by the council of war of the Fifteenth Legion, convicted of espionage and put to death at the Lighthouse shooting range.

Whatever feeling the British public have had against Carl Lody as a German spy, they conclude that he went to his death with the courage of a soldier. Since his execution it has been whispered that he had a romance with a young girl in Berlin, and that had he succeeded in returning to Germany, he would have been welcomed with open arms by a rosy-cheeked damsel who loved him for the dangers he had braved. In some ways his case was similar to that of the unfortunate Major André, who was captured as a British spy during the American revolution and condemned to death. On the night before he was executed, Lody spent his time in the Tower writing letters to those nearest and dearest to him. One of these pathetic missives was addressed to his sister and read as follows:

“_My darling_: I have trusted in my God and He has decided. Through many of the dangers of life He has guided me and has always saved me. More than to millions of others He has shown to me the beauties of this world and I may not complain. My hour has struck and I must take my way through the dark valley as many of my good, brave comrades have during this dreadful struggle of nations.

“Where I am going there is no worry and there are no alarms. May my life be judged worthy to be an humble sacrifice on the altar of the Fatherland. The death of a hero on the battlefield is perhaps more beautiful, but that has not been my lot. I die here in a hostile land, silent and unknown; yet the consciousness that I die in the service of my country makes death easier. I shall die as an officer, not a spy.”

It is estimated that nearly one hundred persons have been tried for espionage in Belgium alone and that at least thirty of these have been put to death by the Germans. The list includes a former burgomaster of Hisselt. The spirit of the Belgians, in spite of their trying position, has amazed friend and foe alike.

The story of a young woman who tried to serve her country and the Allies reads like the pages of an old romance. She managed to get a passport from a German officer giving her the right to leave Belgium, but before going she got into the German camp and became possessed of some valuable information relating to the future movements of the army. This was sketched on thin paper, placed inside the lining of her hat. Her whole aim now was to get out of Belgium without being searched.

She secured a conveyance and started for the border. At intervals of every few miles she was halted and searched.

But as her passport was a letter of recommendation, these searches were fortunately of a perfunctory character. At last she reached the point where it was needful to pass only one more sentinel. As she approached this point, near the border, she heard the order:

“Halt—who goes there?”

The vehicle was stopped and the sentinel, after looking at her papers, made the customary search. It revealed nothing of a forbidding nature. She was congratulating herself that all was well when the wife of a German officer advanced and asked the sentinel:

“Have you looked in the lining of her hat?”

The girl’s heart fell, as well it might. The sentinel made a second search and found the incriminating document. She was tried, convicted and shot as a spy.

Another tale relates to a German spy who actually enlisted with a Scottish regiment in France. He was blonde and looked like a native of Scotland. Indeed, there was no trace of German accent in his conversation. He must have lived in Scotland for some years as he had an astonishing amount of information concerning that country. Some of his fellow soldiers insisted that he even had a bit of burr on his tongue, so much did his conversation resemble that of a real Scot. At all events, he is said to have gained command of a company of Scotch Fusiliers. He gave the order to charge and led his men into a trap. Whether he tried to escape is not known, but, at all events, the ruse was discovered and an investigation made. The result satisfied the authorities that a spy was in their midst, and under orders from the colonel of the regiment this pretended Scot was taken out and shot.

Another case that has caused no end of discussion concerns a woman known as Fanny La Place. It was said at one time that she was German and her case has been compared with that of Edith Cavell, the British nurse who was put to death at Brussels. But this parallel is denied strenuously by the French, who give out a statement to the contrary. According to this information, her right name was Felice Pfast. She was a French woman born at Nancy in 1890. She went to Metz in 1914 and later received permission to visit her mother in Belgium. While there, it is said, a German official proposed that she gather military information in Paris. She spent three weeks in Paris and then reported the results to Germans, who, she admitted, paid her 5,000 francs to undertake another mission. She was caught in the act of spying at Marseilles and admitted she had been commissioned to gather military information. On July 10 she was unanimously condemned to death by a court-martial.

Another alleged spy in the great war was Captain Otto Feinat of the Russian army. He was well known in Ruman and was in charge of the judicial proceedings following the Jewish massacres at Kishineff in 1903. He held responsible military positions after that, but it was lately claimed that he had been in some compromising correspondence with some friends in Germany. The evidence against him was circumstantial. He protested from the outset that he was loyal to Russia, but in spite of this he was condemned and sent to Siberia for a long term of penal servitude.

Was he guilty? Who can tell? He had the consolation—maybe a poor consolation—of knowing that scores of other Russian officers have lately been sent into banishment on circumstantial evidence.

Then there is the remarkable story of Colonel Miassoyedorff, who was attached to the staff of the Russian Tenth army corps in East Prussia. The Tenth was one of those that met with disastrous defeat in the Mazuirian lake district. It was under the command of General Rennykampf, and in one of these defeats lost 70,000 prisoners. In a second defeat it lost 50,000. The circumstances in each case were similar. The unexpected arrival of a large force of Germans served to defeat the invaders, and caused them to take to their heels, thus transforming an anticipated victory into a most humiliating rout.

An investigation was started and all of the circumstances pointed in the direction of Miassoyedorff, an interpreter on the staff of the Tenth army. One soldier said that he recognized Miassoyedorff as a man who had been connected at one time with the German army. It was further alleged that at the outbreak of hostilities he had been the head of the German spy system and one of the highest officers of the political police. Charged with these former connections, he denied them most emphatically.

“I deny the charge,” he cried, “and I defy my enemies to produce the slightest proof of its truth.”

Further charges were made that while he was in command of frontier guards at Verjoblova, only a few miles from the border, he had repeatedly visited the Kaiser and made reports to him. When asked what he had to say to this second charge he merely folded his arms, smiled and said:

“I deny it!”

But appearances were against him, and after the defeats they had just sustained, the Russians were in a mood to accept any explanation of their humiliation. So Colonel Miassoyedorff, in spite of his protestations, was declared guilty and was executed.

Was he an innocent man, or was he the spy of the Kaiser?

History may tell us the truth, but history in cases of this kind is just as apt to be in error as contemporaneous reports. Such men are unknown, unhonored and unsung for two reasons. The first is that the very nature of their profession renders it necessary for them to lead a dual existence. If they are innocent, their innocence is rarely proclaimed because it would be an admission of error. And whoever heard of such an admission? On the other hand, if they are actually spies those who care for them most would fain permit their memory to rest in peace.

The story of the activity of German spies in the United States would make a book in itself, but it would be disconnected, fragmentary and unsatisfactory. There have been any number of unproved charges, any amount of unfinished stories and countless plots that never came to a head. But enough has been proven to indicate that this country has been filled with spies and special agents of the Kaiser. Chief Flynn, of the United States Secret Service, with the comparatively small force under his direction, has performed wonders in ferreting out these offenders against the peace and honor of this country. Scores of arrests have been made and there have been a number of important convictions. Most of these have been in connection with the destruction of munition plants, and a few have been violations of our laws in an endeavor to hatch plots against Great Britain and France.

Perhaps the most striking instance of pernicious activity on the part of German representatives was that of Captain Karl Boy-Ed and Captain Franz von Papen, naval and military attachés, respectively, of the German Embassy at Washington. For a long time they were a thorn in the side of the American Government. The President and the Secretary of State were reluctant to act because of their desire to preserve friendly relations with the German nation. Finally, conditions became unbearable, and on the last of October, 1916, the State Department asked for the recall of Boy-Ed and von Papen. It was announced at the time that the action of this Government against the German attachés was due to no single incident in either case, but was based on an accumulation of improper activities connected with the handling of German military and naval matters in this country. It was hinted at the time that one of the strongest reasons for the action was the connection of one of the attachés with a movement to set up a scheme in Mexico detrimental to the interests of the United States.

One can only marvel at the patience of our Government under the circumstances. Captain Boy-Ed’s name at the time was prominently mentioned in connection with the Richard Peter Stengel passport case, with the Werner Horn dynamiting case, and with the queer diplomatic fiasco in connection with the case of Dr. Constantine Dumba, the Austrian Ambassador. Germany informed the United States on December 6, 1916, that she desired to know upon what grounds the State Department asked for the withdrawal of Captains Boy-Ed and von Papen. Secretary Lansing, on the following day, replied that the military and naval activities of the attachés constituted their principal offense, but did not discuss the facts or the sources of information. On December 10, Count von Bernstoff, the German Ambassador, informed Secretary Lansing that the German Emperor had acquiesced in the request of the United States for the withdrawal of the attachés, and before the end of the year both of them had departed for Germany.