Part 30 (1/2)

Charles, his brother, disappeared. It was said he also had killed himself; that he had been appointed a military attache in South America; that to revenge his brother he had entered the secret service; but whatever became of him no one knew. All that was certain was that, thanks to the act of Marie Gessler, on the rolls of the French army the ancient and n.o.ble name of Ravignac no longer appeared.

In her chosen profession Marie Gessler found nothing discreditable. Of herself her opinion was not high, and her opinion of men was lower.

For her smiles she had watched several sacrifice honor, duty, loyalty; and she held them and their kind in contempt. To lie, to cajole, to rob men of secrets they thought important, and of secrets the importance of which they did not even guess, was to her merely an intricate and exciting game.

She played it very well. So well that in the service her advance was rapid. On important missions she was sent to Russia, through the Balkans; even to the United States. There, with credentials as an army nurse, she inspected our military hospitals and un.o.btrusively asked many innocent questions.

When she begged to be allowed to work in her beloved Paris, ”they” told her when war came ”they” intended to plant her inside that city, and that, until then, the less Paris knew of her the better.

But just before the great war broke, to report on which way Italy might jump, she was sent to Rome, and it was not until September she was recalled. The telegram informed her that her Aunt Elizabeth was ill, and that at once she must return to Berlin. This, she learned from the code book wrapped under the cover of her thermos bottle, meant that she was to report to the general commanding the German forces at Soissons.

From Italy she pa.s.sed through Switzerland, and, after leaving Basle, on military trains was rushed north to Luxemburg, and then west to Laon.

She was accompanied by her companion, Bertha, an elderly and respectable, even distinguished-looking female. In the secret service her number was 528. Their pa.s.ses from the war office described them as nurses of the German Red Cross. Only the Intelligence Department knew their real mission. With her, also, as her chauffeur, was a young Italian soldier of fortune, Paul Anfossi. He had served in the Belgian Congo, in the French Foreign Legion in Algiers, and spoke all the European languages. In Rome, where as a wireless operator he was serving a commercial company, in selling Marie copies of messages he had memorized, Marie had found him useful, and when war came she obtained for him, from the Wilhelmstra.s.se, the number 292. From Laon, in one of the automobiles of the General Staff, the three spies were driven first to Soissons, and then along the road to Meaux and Paris, to the village of Neufch.e.l.les. They arrived at midnight, and in a chateau of one of the Champagne princes, found the colonel commanding the Intelligence Bureau. He accepted their credentials, destroyed them, and replaced them with a laissez-pa.s.ser signed by the mayor of Laon. That dignitary, the colonel explained, to citizens of Laon fleeing to Paris and the coast had issued many pa.s.ses. But as now between Laon and Paris there were three German armies, the refugees had been turned back and their pa.s.ses confiscated.

”From among them,” said the officer, ”we have selected one for you. It is issued to the wife of Count d'Aurillac, a captain of reserves, and her aunt, Madame Benet. It asks for those ladies and their chauffeur, Briand, a safe-conduct through the French military lines. If it gets you into Paris you will destroy it and a.s.sume another name. The Count d'Aurillac is now with his regiment in that city. If he learned of the presence there of his wife, he would seek her, and that would not be good for you. So, if you reach Paris, you will become a Belgian refugee. You are high-born and rich. Your chateau has been destroyed.

But you have money. You will give liberally to the Red Cross. You will volunteer to nurse in the hospitals. With your sad story of ill treatment by us, with your high birth, and your knowledge of nursing, which you acquired, of course, only as an amateur, you should not find it difficult to join the Ladies of France, or the American Ambulance.

What you learn from the wounded English and French officers and the French doctors you will send us through the usual channels.”

”When do I start?” asked the woman.

”For a few days,” explained the officer, ”you remain in this chateau.

You will keep us informed of what is going forward after we withdraw.”

”Withdraw?” It was more of an exclamation than a question. Marie was too well trained to ask questions.

”We are taking up a new position,” said the officer, ”on the Aisne.”

The woman, incredulous, stared.

”And we do not enter Paris?”

”You do,” returned the officer. ”That is all that concerns you. We will join you later--in the spring. Meanwhile, for the winter we intrench ourselves along the Aisne. In a chimney of this chateau we have set up a wireless outfit. We are leaving it intact. The chauffeur Briand--who, you must explain to the French, you brought with you from Laon, and who has been long in your service--will transmit whatever you discover. We wish especially to know of any movement toward our left.

If they attack in front from Soissons, we are prepared; but of any attempt to cross the Oise and take us in flank you must warn us.”

The officer rose and hung upon himself his field-gla.s.ses, map-cases, and side-arms.

”We leave you now,” he said. ”When the French arrive you will tell them your reason for halting at this chateau was that the owner, Monsieur Iverney, and his family are friends of your husband. You found us here, and we detained you. And so long as you can use the wireless, make excuses to remain. If they offer to send you on to Paris, tell them your aunt is too ill to travel.”

”But they will find the wireless,” said the woman. ”They are sure to use the towers for observation, and they will find it.”

”In that case,” said the officer, ”you will suggest to them that we fled in such haste we had no time to dismantle it. Of course, you had no knowledge that it existed, or, as a loyal French woman, you would have at once told them.” To emphasize his next words the officer pointed at her: ”Under no circ.u.mstances,” he continued, ”must you be suspected. If they should take Briand in the act, should they have even the least doubt concerning him, you must repudiate him entirely.

If necessary, to keep your own skirts clear, it would be your duty yourself to denounce him as a spy.”

”Your first orders,” said the woman, ”were to tell them Briand had been long in my service; that I brought him from my home in Laon.”

”He might be in your service for years,” returned the colonel, ”and you not know he was a German agent.”

”If to save myself I inform upon him,” said Marie, ”of course you know you will lose him.”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. ”A wireless operator,” he retorted, ”we can replace. But for you, and for the service you are to render in Paris, we have no subst.i.tute. You must not be found out.