| | 33

TRACING A TRAITOR

As most people are aware, every civilised country in the world expends a large sum annually on what is known as 'Secret Service,' but not many know to what extent every capital of Europe swarms with spies, who are paid out of the Secret Service funds. It is the business of each Government to find out all it possibly can as to what is being done by other Governments. It is a matter of almost absolute impossibility for any Government to preserve military or naval secrets from the prying eyes of the ubiquitous spy. This spy system is universal, and in the 'Service' are to be found men and women of exceptional cleverness, who might in any other walk in life, probably, if they so desired, become very prominent members of society. But as spies they must ever remain unknown to the outside world, and, no matter to what extent they distinguish themselves in their calling, they receive no public recognition. Secrecy is the guiding principle of the spy's existence. His life is a mystery and a puzzle; and even those who are closest and dearest to him are probably in ignorance of how he earns his bread. Spies are almost invariably educated people, excellent linguists, unemotional by nature, and gifted with the power of being able to conceal their thoughts. Moreover, they should be adepts in the art of disguise, and capable of deceiving their own parents. For obvious reasons it is important that spies should not be known even to each other, though it is not easy to guard against this. It is the duty of the spy to transmit to his Government, as secretly as possible, every scrap of information likely to be of value; and, as may be supposed, in order to get his facts the spy not infrequently has to try and corrupt somebody in a position to give the information required. Now and again the public hear of a traitor who may have been in the army, the navy, the dockyards or elsewhere; but as a rule when a traitor is detected a discreet silence is preserved. He is dismissed from the service, of course, and for ever afterwards becomes a marked man in his own country.

England, perhaps, spends less than any other European nation in Secret Service, with the result—proved over and over again—that we are often profoundly ignorant when we ought to be | | 34 well informed. The South African War, however, has opened the eyes of the Government to its parsimony, and the Secret Service vote for this year of grace is double what it has been for many years.

These brief remarks are quite a propos to the remarkable story that follows, and will serve to render the incidents more intelligible.

YEARS ago, when it seemed as if this country and Russia would become embroiled in a life-and-death struggle for supremacy in the East, Tyler Tatlock was suddenly summoned to the War Office. It was during a time of public excitement, and we were within an ace of breaking off diplomatic relations with the 'Colossus of the North.' How near we were to war the public did not know. Russia, with the aggressiveness and self-assertiveness which have characterised her 'expansion policy' for centuries, disputed our claim to certain boundary lines in connection with our Indian frontier; and we were compelled to put our foot down, as the saying is, and exclaim in no ambiguous language to the Northern Bully—'Thus far and no farther.'

Some of our frontier defences, if not all, had been allowed foolishly to fall into such a state of ruin that feverish activity prevailed in order to be prepared for emergencies. It was at the most critical stage of the negotiations that the Government learnt by some means that Russia was being kept fully informed of our plans and operations by a traitor or traitors; and at the War Office a startling discovery was made. Copies of certain drawings of the utmost importance were missing from the department where much of the drawing was done, and there was every reason to suppose they had been stolen with a view to selling them to Russia.

Efforts had been made to unearth the delinquent, but so far without success, and there was a consensus of opinion amongst the officials that it was desirable that an entire stranger should be employed to ferret out this traitor, as the detectives employed by the War Office permanently were more or less well known to the clerks and others of the various departments—consequently Tatlock was selected for the work. He bore a high reputation in Government | | 35 circles as a man of exceptional ability in his line, and he had previously distinguished himself in carrying out Government work.

Tatlock's interview was with General Sir George—, who in guarded language explained the situation.

'You will understand,' he said, after much talk, 'what an uneasy feeling there is in the department alluded to, since every man connected with it feels that to a greater or less extent he is under suspicion. In a case of this kind the black sheep is at especial pains to appear white, and, the documents having disappeared, it may be very difficult to spot the thief. And yet it is of the highest importance that he should be spotted, and weeded out root and branch.'

Tatlock assented to the proposition involved in the foregoing remark, and urged that the problem submitted to him for solution was beset with so many difficulties that he was by no means hopeful of success.

'For instance,' he said, running his eye down a list of about forty names the General had placed before him, 'there are gentlemen mentioned here whom to suspect seems almost to border upon the ridiculous.'

Well—no,' replied the General. 'You see, every man in the department is, in the absence of evidence to the contrary, a gentleman. By that I mean, apart from the necessary qualifications of education, he is a man of honour ; a man incapable of a base action, and nothing can be baser than crime. It is not pleasant, therefore, to have to raise one's finger and say A or B may be guilty, when investigation would reveal that C or D was the actual culprit. You follow me?'

'Perfectly well, and I appreciate your delicacy of feeling. Nevertheless, what you say only serves to make my difficulty more apparent.'

'In a sense yes; in reality perhaps no. You see, the considerations which weigh with me can hardly influence you. You can, for the purposes of your inquiry, place every one of these men on a common level, and at the initial stage you need not discriminate between Dick and Harry.'

| | 36

The result of the interview was that Tatlock undertook to try to unearth the culprit, stipulating for a perfectly free hand, which the General assured him he should have.

The seriousness of the crime which Tatlock was called upon to fix on the guilty person can hardly be realised by the casual reader. But it will be best expressed by stating that owing to the abstraction of the drawings, which it was logically concluded had been stolen for the purpose of supplying Russia with information, instructions had to be telegraphed out to India to make certain modifications in the defence scheme. This meant an expenditure of several thousand pounds. When Tatlock took up the work in earnest he found that the laws of probability necessitated the focussing of the suspicion on a section comprising twelve men, and closer investigation reduced the twelve to six. It is perhaps necessary to mention that while the various officials of the department in question had been in conference with the chiefs of the War Office, no definite steps had been taken with regard to the subordinates, and the engagement of the services of Tyler Tatlock was kept a profound secret.

The task that devolved upon Tatlock was one requiring the exercise of skill, tact, and judgment. But he was equal to it, and he set about his work with the deliberate caution that characterised him. A full consideration of the duties, and the conditions under which they were performed, of the six men Tatlock had selected forced him to the conclusion that the traitor would be found amongst them, and he proceeded to make himself acquainted with the habits and non-official lives of this little group. Three were married and had families; one was married, but without family ; two were bachelors.

Now, it chanced that at this period there lived in London, and moved in the best society, a lady whom we'll designate as the Countess X. She was said to be a Pole, but was an open advocate of Russia. She was handsome, brilliant, rich ; and her frequent letters to the Times, in which by astute arguments she endeavoured to prove that all our suspicions of Russia were absolutely unjustifiable, had made | | 37 her name known throughout the length and breadth of the land; while her splendid receptions and entertainments at her mansion in Park Lane had given her a conspicuous position in society. Nevertheless, she was regarded with suspicion by some people, as it was believed she was a spy in the pay of Russia. She was about forty-five years of age, and whether she had a husband living or not was a matter about which she did not choose to enlighten the public. She had a daughter named Olga, a singularly handsome girl of twenty or thereabouts, who was reputed to be able to speak and write six or seven languages fluently, to be highly educated, and to possess all her mother's cleverness and brilliancy. The joint attractions of mother and daughter drew to the hospitable Park Lane mansion hosts of people, a large percentage of whom were young men, who vied with each other in paying Olga flattering attention.

About a fortnight after Tyler Tatlock had seriously set to work in his investigation of the War Office mystery he entered a very foreign-looking cafe restaurant in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square. He seated himself at an unoccupied table, and, speaking in French to one of the waiters, ordered coffee a la verre and a cheroot. He had not entered the place because it had any particular attraction for him, but because he was interested in two young men who had preceded him, and were joined at a table in a corner almost immediately by a very foreign and very Jewish-looking individual, 'who might have been a Rooshian, a German, or a Prooshian, but was not an Englishman.'

The two young men whom Tatlock had under his observation were employed at the War Office. One, named Terence Trapmore, was a draughtsman's copyist; the other, Paul Redmond, was a second-class clerk. It was evident they had gone to the cafe for the purpose of meeting the foreign gentleman, and by appointment. He greeted them effusively, and for some time they engaged in earnest conversation. The foreign gentleman gesticulated much, and shrugged his shoulders with an impressiveness that conveyed a good deal of meaning. Tatlock was too far removed from the trio to | | 38 catch any of their conversation, which, as a matter of fact, was carried on sotto voce, but from his little, half-closed eyes he watched them, and the gesticulations and shoulder-shrugs were signs to him of a dumb language not altogether lost upon him. At last a little incident occurred which was destined to afford him the clue for which he had been searching so diligently. Terence Trapmore, clearly in reply to something said by the foreign gentleman, pulled an envelope from his pocket, took a letter from the envelope, placed the envelope on the marble-top table, and handed the letter to the foreigner, who read it with every manifestation of deep interest, and an elevating of the eye-brows. Tatlock would have given a great deal to have been able to have glanced over that letter, but that was out of the question. He never did anything rash; he knew how to wait and watch, and he had a saying to the effect that 'the patient watcher was bound to sec many things.' Well, he saw the foreigner fold the letter up and hand it back to Trapmore, who mechanically placed it in his pocket, unmindful of the envelope on the table, and by-and-by all unknowingly he swept the envelope off the table with his elbow, and it fell to the sanded floor.

Tatlock watched and waited. And he continued to watch and wait for fully an hour, when he was comforted by seeing the three men rise and depart. When they had gone he moved quietly to where they had been sitting, rapidly picked up the envelope, which had been trampled upon and was much dirtied, and slipped it into his pocket. He went back to his own table, gave a repeat order for coffee, and in an unconcerned way, and as if prompted by the merest curiosity, he inquired of the waiter who the foreign gentleman with the black beard might be who had just gone out.

The waiter, suspecting nothing, answered that the gentleman was known as Mr. Peter Petrovitch. He was staying in the house, and had been there about five weeks. He was supposed to have some business at the Russian Consulate, but what his business was the waiter did not know.

In due time Tatlock sauntered out, and later on | | 39 examined the dirty envelope. In a cramped and unmistakably foreign hand it was addressed to `Terence Trapmore, Esq.,' at his private residence. Of course, there was not much in that, but on the flap, stamped in black and gold, was a peculiar crest. So the detective put that envelope very carefully away in his pocket-hook. Though he did not suspect it then, it was to prove the key to the somewhat complex problem he had been called upon to solve. The following day he presented himself at the Heralds' College, and showing the envelope asked whose crest it was. After some little research he was informed it was one that was used by the Countess X.

'Oh, oh,' thought Tatlock, this is getting interesting.'

The fact of an envelope bearing the crest of the Countess being addressed to Terence Trapmore proved conclusively that Mr. Trapmore was in communication with a lady who, rightly or wrongly, was supposed to be an agent in the pay of Russia. His meeting Peter Petrovitch at the Leicester Square cafe was also suspicious, and altogether it seemed as if a pretty little plot was being worked to the detriment of Great Britain.

Tatlock was now convinced he had got hold of certain threads which, if followed up, would lead to important results. It was necessary, of course, to act with caution, and apart from detecting the traitor it was of the highest importance that the stolen drawings should be recovered if possible. Any precipitancy would in all probability frustrate the object aimed at. At that stage an open accusation of Trapmore would serve no purpose; it was Tatlock's business to get behind the scenes, and find out what was going on. And he found out this much, that two nights after the cafe incident Terence Trapmore and Paul Redmond were guests at the Countess X.'s house.

A week later he received an intimation from the War Office that, in spite of the precautions taken, it was believed an unauthorised copy had been made of certain frontier out-posts in Northern India. Up to this stage of the unravelment Tatlock had kept his suspicions to himself. But he now laid such information as he had gathered before Sir | | 40 George—, and was informed in return that three days before Trapmore and Redmond had commenced their annual holiday, and would not return to their duties for a month.

Tatlock now felt that, in a sense, his two men had scored a point against him. Whoever had come into possession of the stolen drawings would personally convey them out of the country owing to the tremendous risks of sending them through the post, for, of course, the postal authorities had been notified, and unusual vigilance was being exercised. Under these circumstances Sir George—was in favour of an immediate arrest, which he felt was quite justified by the suspicious movements of the two men. Tatlock concurred with this, but he was quite prepared to find that the birds had flown, and with the long start they had got they might yet win in the desperate game they were playing.

Trapmore and Redmond were both bachelors. The former lived in apartments in the house of a widow lady and her daughter in South Kensington, the latter with his mother and sisters in the same neighbourhood. He had gone with his people to Eastbourne for the holidays, and Tatlock felt that for the time being he need not concern himself any more about him. All his attention was given to the presumed chief conspirator. Trapmore had left his lodgings, but his landlady had no idea where he had gone to. He had simply said he was off to Brighton for two days, and after that he did not know where he would be, but anyway he would not return for at least three weeks. The day after he left she sent on a parcel which came after his departure, and which he was expecting. She addressed it to the Grand Hotel, Brighton.

To Brighton, therefore, Tatlock went. He found that Trapmore and Petrovitch had both been there. Petrovitch had been staying for some time, but he and Trapmore had both left together and gone to London. Tatlock tried the cafe in Leicester Square, but ascertained that Petrovitch had left some time ago, and they had almost forgotten all about him. From this point then the trace was lost, but Tatlock was not the man to remain long baffled. His resourcefulness | | 41 was almost inexhaustible, and his deductions led him to surmise that if anyone was likely to know of Trapmore's whereabouts it was the Countess X. But he was not foolish enough to suppose that that clever lady of intrigue would give the desired information for the mere asking. Trapmore, there was every reason to believe, was one of her creatures, and she would have to be met by the same cunning which she so skilfully exercised herself when dealing with others. So one morning a French gentleman called at her residence and sent his card, marked ` pressing,' up to her. The name on the card was M. de la Fosse, Rue Fontenelle 18, Paris.

Monsieur de la Fosse was a little man, dark to swarthiness, with a waxed moustache and a fussy, self-assertive manner. Madame la Comtesse graciously consented to receive him, although she did not know him, and he was shown into a charming little morning room, where she soon followed.

Monsieur bowed very low as the lady entered, and laid his hand on his heart in token of the profound sentiments of his utmost devotion to one so charming, and he apologised profusely for his inability to speak any language but his own. It was very stupid of him, very ignorant, but alas! it was the force of circumstances. He hoped the Countess understood French. Of course the Countess did.

'Ah!' then Monsieur de la Fosse was so happy, so very happy, and once more he bowed and laid his hand on his breast. Monsieur de la Fosse had allowed himself the supreme honour of calling on the Countess to ask her for some information about his dear friend, his more than brother, Terence Trapmore, who, as he understood, had the felicity of knowing the Countess intimately. So much he had learnt from his dear friend and more than brother Terence.

The lady's wonderfully mobile and singularly handsome face evinced the astonishment she felt, and her keen eyes searched the little Frenchman.

She confessed that she had some acquaintance with Monsieur Trapmore, but she thought he had been guilty of | | 42 some liberty in talking about her to his friend, however intimate the friend was.

Monsieur de la Fosse begged of her to compose herself. His dear friend Trapmore was his more than brother. They had sentiments, tastes, and feelings in common. Moreover he—Monsieur de la Fosse—was a wonderful draughtsman. He had been in the service of the French government as a draughtsman. He knew that his dear friend and more than brother wanted him to assist him in making some drawings of fortifications. He—Monsieur de la Fosse—had come over to London on purpose, but when he called at his dear friend and more than brother's apartments he found, to his inexpressible astonishment, that the dear friend had gone away, and only left a message to the effect that he would not be back for three weeks. Happily Monsieur de la Fosse, as he assured the Countess, was a man of peace and so fond of his dear friend, or he would have been angry, so angry. As it was, he allowed himself the liberty of calling on Madame la Comtesse, thinking she might be able to tell him where he could find Monsieur Trapmore, with whom he had much business of grave importance.

Madame la Comtesse looked scornful, suspicious, half-angry. 'Really,' she said, 'I am not interested in Trap-more, and know nothing of his movements.'

'Alas, alas!' moaned the Frenchman, 'I have made a grave mistake in my friend! He has played me false. He told me he wanted to see me in London about some drawings. Now, when I come to this great city I learn he is not your friend, and he has gone away. It is shameful! It makes me very unhappy. Madame, I take my leave, and beg you to accept the sentiments of my most distinguished consideration. Madame, I am your very humble and obedient servant.'

The Countess smiled again, and the whole expression of her face indicated that she was suspicious of her visitor. As he was about to depart she said with irony:

'If your friend is so devoted to you it is curious he should have asked you to come to London, knowing full well that he was going to Paris.'

| | 43

Ah, he has gone to Paris. Mon Dieu, est-ce possible? and I will swear he has gone with that Peter Petrovitch. Ma foi, what ill luck for me!'

'You know Peter Petrovitch?' asked the lady, lifting her eyebrows.

'Madame, I know that Peter Petrovitch.' Once more he bowed; once more he laid his hand on his heart.

'Well, I believe they are both in Paris,' remarked the lady, with a wave of her white jewelled hand, as if she meant to convey that the discussion was closed, and she dismissed the subject and her unwelcome visitor at the same time. Monsieur de la Fosse was not dense, so with many bows and florid and perfervid expressions of devotion he took his leave, and when he had left the house behind him a little smile of triumph lurked in the corners of his mouth, for De la Fosse was none other than Tyler Tatlock, the detective. His visit had convinced him of three things—firstly, Madame was the spy she was reputed to be; secondly, she and Trapmore were in league; thirdly, Petrovitch was a Russian agent, and between him and Trapmore was some bond, a bond of treason as far as Trapmore was concerned.

Tatlock's remark to the Countess about Petrovitch was a lucky shot. It was fired quite at random, but hit its mark. Madame knew Petrovitch; she knew Trapmore ; and she gave herself away when she disclosed that she knew they had gone to Paris. Tatlock had made a great stride. The problem was now less abstruse.

After an interview with General Sir George at the War Office, Tatlock started for Paris. He did not know the address of the man he was seeking, but in Paris it is infinitely less difficult to trace a foreigner than in London. The compulsory system of registration, and the lists of strangers kept at the Bureau de Police, enables anyone who has a legitimate purpose in so doing to find a person he may be looking for. Within a few hours, therefore, Tatlock learned that Trapmore and Petrovitch had put up at the Hotel du Nord ; but both had gone. It was | | 44 believed that the English gentleman had departed for Vienna, and the Russian for London.

Vienna was within easy distance of the Russian frontier. If, as was reasonable to suppose, he was conveying the stolen drawings with him, the object of his journey to Vienna became apparent. At any rate Tatlock acted on the supposition, and acted quickly, for if he could only succeed in coming up with his man before he reached Russian territory he could foil him in his little game, as he was provided with the necessary official documents to enable him to secure his arrest almost anywhere save in Russia.

Tatlock travelled through to Vienna without break of journey. He had no certain knowledge that Trapmore had gone to Vienna, but there were strong probabilities that he had done so. Anyway Tatlock found himself in the beautiful Austrian capital, and, scarcely pausing to draw his breath when he alighted from the train, he handed in his credentials at the chief Police Bureau, and secured the cooperation of the officials. Next to Russia, Austria has the most perfect system of espionage of any country in the world.

In the 'Register of Arrivals,' kept at the Central Bureau, Tatlock read a very full description of the man he was after—Terence Trapmore, and learned that he was staying at the H"ô"tel Prada.

To the H"ô"tel Prada, a first-class house, Tatlock went. And that evening he saw Terence Trapmore at the table d'h"ô"te with a young lady of striking beauty, to whom he seemed devoted. She was handsomely dressed, and wore much jewellery. She was known in the hotel as Fraulein Metrinkska. In reality she was Olga, daughter of Countess X. The police books furnished Tatlock with the following:

Name—Fraulein Metrinkska, assumed. Real name, Olga, daughter of Countess X., resident in London. Nationality, Polish or Russian. Arrived from Dresden on the 1st. | | 45 Receives much correspondence from Russia and England. Believed to be a spy in the interests of Russia.'

The following day a visit of inspection and interrogation was paid by the police agents to the Hotel Prada at the instigation of Tatlock. They were armed with an authority to search the baggage of Terence Trapmore and Olga, otherwise Fraulein Metrinkska, for suspected incriminating documents. The visit was like a thunderbolt to the young people. They protested; they argued; they threatened ; but it was all useless. It was like banging their heads against an adamantine wall. Their keys were demanded, and ultimately produced, and in Olga's trunk was found a parcel of elaborate tracings and drawings of various parts of the Indian frontier. The discovery told its own tale. Olga had bewitched Trapmore. She had caused him to sully his honour and become a traitor. She had waited in Vienna for his coming with the all-important drawings, which she was going to convey to Russia. The papers were confiscated, as she could not prove any legitimate claim to them. Thus the little plot was frustrated. She was furious. She stormed and raved. She even threatened that the hosts of the Czar would swoop down and wipe Austria off the map. The police agents smiled. Of course, they would prefer no charge against her. She was free to remain or go as she liked.

Terence Trapmore was stricken into dumbness as he realised that his treachery was known. The light went out of his eyes, and a look of blank despair filled them. Pending an answer to a telegraph message Tatlock had despatched to London, asking for instructions, Trapmore was placed under surveillance, which meant that he could not leave the city without official permission.

That night was fair and beautiful. There was scarcely a cloud in the star-gemmed heavens, and the moon shone with an effulgence which filled the city with a sheen of silver, and trembled in rippling wavelets of weird and solemn light on the rolling Danube, into whose blue waters a broken- | | 46 hearted and desperate man hurled himself and his shame, and passed with a despairing wail to the mystic beyond. Terence Trapmore had dreamed a dream, and Olga was his vision. He awakened to reality, and death beckoned him. Some eyes broke into tears, no doubt, when his end was known, but Olga's didn't. What cared she? Terence Trapmore, the common-place War Office drudge, was to her a mere man, to be used and trifled with, and flung away when done with. She was glad when she heard he was dead; the poor fool who had dared to suppose that he had the power to win her love, she who was so radiantly beautiful. No; she had her idol, but it wasn't Terence Trapmore. Two days later she pursued her journey to Russia, smiling and radiant.

Tyler Tatlock's mission finished when he handed the stolen plans back to the War Office, and thus checkmated Russia's designs as far as these plans were concerned.

Nothing definite was actually proved against Paul Redmond, the second-class clerk, though it was morally certain that he had aided and abetted Trapmore, but the War Office authorities did not deem it advisable to institute public proceedings. For obvious reasons it was better to hush these things up; but Redmond was discharged, and knowing that henceforth he would be a marked man he went abroad. What the Countess X.'s feelings were when she heard of her dupe's death it is not easy to tell, but it is significant that shortly afterwards her effects in Park Lane were sold by auction, and she departed for the Continent. She knew that her mission in London had finished, and that she had been outwitted.