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 209to 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 210her 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 211deceiving 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 212for 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.

Marussia Destrelles had resided in Paris for some years, passing as a Polish widow among those whom she met. She had a certain blond beauty to make her attractive to the eye, and this, together with an alluring personality, soon gained her many friends in the theatrical profession among whom she worked. Marussia did not take her stage career over-seriously, nor did she devote all her time to it. In addition to French she spoke English, Russian, Polish, German, and Italian. Her Polish origin was probably genuine, for she spoke French with the accent peculiar to that people, but 213there was little to be learned of her antecedents, and, unlike Mata Hari, she did not invent a fanciful origin, but spoke only vaguely of her family.

It is a singular thing that one may speak Persian, Pushtu, Chinese, or any other difficult language without incurring the reputation of being anything worse than a genial idiot, but to confess to a knowledge of Russian is almost equivalent to admitting employment in the secret services. Everyone suspects you. It was so with Marussia. Her gift of tongues seems to have predestined her for a spy’s life, and before the war she was known to have established relations with a spy, the manager of a theatrical troupe with whom she occasionally played. This man claimed to be a Rumanian. At the outbreak of war only his precipitate flight to Switzerland saved him from arrest as a dangerous person, for both he and his brother were known agents of Germany. The brother continued his espionage work in Switzerland, with such open contempt for Swiss hospitality that the federal authorities were insulted by his effrontery and had him arrested and sentenced to some months in prison.

While her friend was in Switzerland, Marussia had to carry on their work in Paris, making one visit to Geneva to deliver her reports and to receive 214instructions. The experience at the frontier convinced her that it was inexpedient to leave France again unless she had an excellent excuse for return. Before long, however, it was necessary to make another journey to “see her lover,” who was now in Lausanne, waiting for the reports she was to deliver him, and to receive fresh instructions for the agents who worked for him. She sought a suitable excuse to facilitate her return from Swiss territory, for, being Polish, she had to suffer the close examination of her motives in coming into France.

One morning she called up an acquaintance on the telephone.

“This is Marussia speaking,” she said.

“Marussia?” came the dubious reply.

“Yes. Do you not remember me?”

“Oh yes, perfectly,” answered the man, who was still very vague about her identity, for they had met only recently and were on such slight terms of acquaintance that the use of her first name puzzled him.

“I am sorry to disturb you, my friend, but I am in need of some small service which I believe you will be ready and willing to perform for me. It is a matter I do not care to speak of on the telephone, 215but if you will call here, Boulevard Saint-Germain, I will explain it to you.”

The gentleman thus summoned chanced to be a journalist who contributed those entertaining paragraphs of gossip from the boulevards, the cafés, and the clubs which make the Paris weekly journals such spicy and maliciously funny reading, and, scenting a possible paragraph of scandalous gossip, he promptly relinquished his intention of passing a morning of tranquil ease in order to wait upon the lady’s pleasure. On the way to the Boulevard Saint-Germain he speculated upon his selection for the confidence of Marussia, finally deciding that it could hardly entail any sacrifice unless the lady was presuming upon their slight acquaintance, in which case he could extricate himself from the situation by some journalistic excuse.

Arrived at the house, he went up to the fourth floor, where he was graciously received and generally treated as a tried and trusted confidant. Marussia did not waste time in approaching the object of the visit. She candidly explained that, having on a previous occasion experienced difficulty in returning to France after an absence, she wished to simplify her return from a projected visit to Switzerland. All would be well if monsieur would be good enough to send her a telegram 216on a certain day saying that his play was about to be produced, but that its presentation was being delayed until she, who was cast in the principal part, could be present in Paris.

Monsieur, without stopping to think, said that he would be enchanted to be of service to madame and then went into the gardens of the Tuileries to meditate upon his rash promise. It required several cigarettes to assist him in exhausting all the possible reasons why he, who had never written a play, should have to pretend to have need of the comédienne’s services. He admitted that he would not have been so suspicious of an evil intent had it not been that Marussia spoke Russian and because of a curious incident which had befallen him just as he was leaving her apartment. When Marussia’s manservant was ushering the visitor out of the apartment at the conclusion of his call the man had whispered confidentially into his ear:

“If you meet, on the stairs, a coalman or a grocer’s messenger who stares hard at you, don’t mind. He will be one of our men.”

These two pieces of knowledge seemed to fit mysteriously together in his suspicious mind. He decided to seek the counsel of the local police. At the nearest police office he found an official who listened sympathetically to the story, but who recommended 217him to visit district headquarters, where he was solemnly told to present his story to the central bureau, where he was finally advised to go to the devil. Finding that the civil police did not appear to be unduly alarmed, but himself convinced that a woman who spoke Russian and fathered him with unwritten plays could intend no good, he confided the strange occurrence to friends. By good fortune one of his hearers had just had an unpleasant adventure with the Second Bureau which had turned out satisfactorily in the end. He, too, was a journalist, who had fallen under suspicion of implication in the German newspaper conspiracy, and in order to test his loyalty Mlle. Mistinguette had been instructed to approach him with a suggestion which would put his loyalty to severe test. The clever comédienne whispered to him that she was receiving handsome remuneration for her work on behalf of the enemy and that if he wished to add to his income, an introduction to the German secret service could be arranged for his benefit. This good Frenchman was horrified both at his suspected loyalty and at the supposed perfidy of his charming friend. Not only did he scornfully reject her offer, but he set himself to persuade Mistinguette to abandon the dangerous and treacherous work she professed to 218be performing. Through his obvious sincerity the man had obtained the friendship of some of the very officials who had doubted him before.

He, therefore, strongly recommended Marussia’s friend to accompany him to the offices of the Second Bureau, where he was assured of a sympathetic hearing and the certainty of action if the suspicions had any foundation. The writer of the imaginary play was not surprised to find that his equally imaginary principal player was quite well known to the Second Bureau, but not so well known as they wished. Their knowledge was that she was in many ways an undesirable alien and one to be encouraged if she expressed any desire to leave the country. Her friend was, therefore, instructed not to retract his promise to telegraph for her, but not on any account to send the telegram at the appointed date, lest it deceive some unsuspecting police agent charged with the control of incoming aliens. The French representatives in Switzerland were then warned not to allow a laissez-passer to be issued to Marussia should she request one.

From the time of her arrival in Lausanne the French authorities kept her under strict supervision, a proceeding which induced Marussia to believe that she had made a conquest of the local consul, who was enjoying his duties immensely. 219During her stay in this Swiss town the suspected spy mixed much with the kind of society which soon converted suspicion into moral conviction of her guilt, more especially as she was almost invariably accompanied by her Rumanian friend, who was known to be a German agent. Then came the time when her return to Paris was due. No telegram had been received recalling her to imaginary stage duties, so an appeal had to be made to the local consul. It was refused. But the amiable consul gave her some good advice which, if followed, gave her the hope that the refusal might be revoked. One of the conditions he sought to impose upon Marussia’s conduct was the immediate breach with her associates of the German service and the serving of a probationary period of good behaviour. Marussia indignantly rejected the proposal. But, since she had been entrusted with a confidential mission in France, the requisite papers granting her authority to enter the country had to be obtained somehow. She went to Geneva to try her fortune with an official who was not accustomed to seeing her in the company of her objectionable Rumanian friend and his associates. Marussia was again informed that she would not be permitted to return to France so long as she 220chose as companions men who were notoriously enemies of the French people.

After this second rebuff it was obvious to Marussia that while in Switzerland she enjoyed the security afforded by a neutral country, in France she was exposed to the danger of immediate arrest, trial as an enemy agent, and possible execution. Still, it was her duty as a spy to return, even if papers were refused. The German service had a most accomplished forger operating at Berne, who could produce excellent papers of all sorts and descriptions that defied examination by the authorities, but it would be folly for Marussia to attempt to enter Paris with forged papers, since she was too well known. Besides, it was not only the consuls to whom she had applied for assistance who knew of her occupation, a full description of her appearance and the object of her mission would have been broadcast to all the police officials along the frontier, so that an attempt to penetrate the country would be attended with considerable danger. Therefore, Marussia carried her complaint of the risk she ran to Gruber, the head of German espionage in Switzerland, pointing out that an attempt to cross the frontier must be accompanied with the certain prospect of disaster.

That is not the language of spies. No secret-service 221agent can afford to cherish the luxury of flight from possible capture when his duty requires that he remain at his post. Men who carry their freedom, and often their lives, in their hands every hour of the day would not be able to appreciate Marussia’s motives. Crossing the frontier is a business which invariably exposes the spy to considerable danger, even when his papers are in order, why, then, should she begin to have qualms at this stage? Recognition? Good Lord! was there ever a spy who did not risk recognition? It was part of spies’ routine to avoid it, they were specially trained to dodge it, and if recognized by accident then it was their business to throw the pursuers off the scent. But to decline to execute orders because it was known that she was a spy—that was incredible.

Still Marussia refused to budge. She protested so volubly that the French got to hear of her predicament and, scenting the possibility of a confession and much useful information, they began to sympathize with Marussia. A reliable agent was detailed to offer protection against this new form of persecution by her employers. The French agent tried in every way to gain her confidence and, if possible, to induce her to betray her former associates. Unfortunately, the agent chosen for this 222work was known to the enemy agents. As soon as they found that Marussia was spending her time in the company of this man they became alarmed and appointed their own watchers to discover whether the woman was contemplating treachery, which was suspected from her protest against further employment in France.

One night Marussia and her new French friend dined together at the former’s hotel. Shortly after the man had left, Marussia was invited to join a party of German agents who were making merry, in a neighbouring room, over a victory. They joyfully insisted that she share in the entertainment. What happened at that party has never been divulged, probably never will. All that is known is the tragic sequel, when on the next morning Marussia Destrelles was found, dressed in a pretty ball dress, lying dead among a pile of flowers heaped on her bed. Early that morning, before the official news of her death had been made public, the German agents were assiduously spreading the news that she had committed suicide because of a love-affair. This was contrary to the known facts.

There was great commotion in Geneva when it was known that a well-known foreign actress had died suddenly, and the police were instructed to institute a close investigation into the circumstances 223of her death. Medical examination showed that death was due to poisoning, but since the murderers had entirely omitted to leave behind any accessories for suicide, the malicious reports of her companions were exploded. Search in the room where the entertainment had been given proved that one cup of coffee had been poisoned and that was the cup from which Marussia had drunk. The costume she wore on her bier was not that which she had worn on the previous night, and the doctors declared that Marussia could not have lived long enough to drink the coffee in another room, remain until the end of the entertainment where she was supposed to have quarrelled with a friend, and then proceed to change her costume and arrange for the display of flowers which adorned her bier. Convinced that they had to deal with an audacious band of murderers, the Swiss police began an active search for the slayers, when a mysterious message from Berne put an end to further enquiry. The whole matter was allowed to drop, as was so often the case when German agents were criminally involved. But among the German secret service in Switzerland the death of Marussia was long used to inspire terror in the hearts of agents who showed any inclination to independence. It became the classic example of the ruthless vengeance with 224which the service punished its servants when they required to be disciplined. It was also one of the favourite bogies used to frighten nervous agents into a spirit of reckless courage.

In Mata Hari’s case the tragedy had a bitter significance, because the women had maintained a close friendship over a period of many years. Although it is not known whether they worked together in German interests, their lives followed a parallel course, with Mata Hari holding the superior position, both on and off the stage. There can be little doubt that when the Red Dancer received her instructions ordering her back to France the tragic end of her Polish companion was a grisly reminder of the fate which would inevitably pursue her if she persisted in refusal to obey. As a spy she was responsible for her own protection by whatever resources were at her command, but it was obvious that her superiors would tolerate no disobedience. Had she decided to remain in Spain contrary to orders, she had no friends who could be effective in protecting her against the murderous vengeance she was courting, whereas in Paris she had powerful friends whose self-interest might alone induce them to preserve her from the relentless fate which pursued her. The Second Bureau did not possess the atrocious reputation of its German 225equivalent service, and it was possible that she might invent a plausible story about the Belgian affair.

“Perhaps, after all,” she may have thought, “I may be exaggerating my danger. Even if the French do suspect me, they can have no proof, because they cannot make use of my correspondence without risking a rupture of diplomatic relations with the neutral country whose confidential mail I have used. If by any chance they have discovered my secret channel of information, which is unlikely, the other diplomats will protect me personally by protesting against the pilfering of their mail. As for the absence of the papers I had to carry to Belgium, I will say that I destroyed them for safety.”

If Mata Hari ever reviewed the case in this light she was not without justification for her reasoning. Actual betrayal could only come through some other channel. But even if the spy herself had willingly consented to undertake this mission the German authorities exhibited a painfully callous disregard for the safety of an agent who had served them with marked success.

On the other hand, there is much to support the contention that Mata Hari was deliberately sent to her doom. The German authorities must have 226known perfectly well that Mata Hari had committed an indiscretion in sending the originals of her papers to Holland instead of sending duplicates or copies and retaining the originals in case she was asked to produce them at the last minute for alteration. There was bound to be the gravest doubt about her loyalty if these documents could not be produced. But this was not their greatest difficulty.

After the time of the Chemin des Dames offensive every piece of information she sent them was either inaccurate or deceiving. The list of routes used by air pilots which she had sent was without result, since the French authorities had promptly changed the routes as soon as they learned that Mata Hari had revealed them; some information she had gathered from British officers relating to tanks was also found to be valueless because untrue, and the German service must have suspected the truth, that her informants were enemy agents aware of her purpose and willing to further it by supplying false information; there was the list of spies in Belgium, of whom only one could be identified—another trick. Finally, the British had shipped her to Spain instead of allowing her to proceed to Holland.

What were the Germans to think?

227They had the choice of only two things. Either Mata Hari was deliberately deceiving them, or her employment was known to the enemy agents, who were using her for the bewilderment of her employers, in which case her value had passed and she had become a menace. But whether they forced Mata Hari to Paris against her will for the purpose of surrendering her to their enemies, or whether they had some other motive, the fact remains that they did not betray her. Which may or may not be further evidence of their stupidity. Nevertheless, the woman might be forgiven, but there is little excuse for officials who kept on sending the pitcher to the well after so many warnings that it had become too fragile for the work.

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