HOW THE SPIES WORK.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XXXVI, Issue 1313, 20 October 1914, Page 4

HOW THE SPIES WORK.

THE GERMAN SYSTEM. A DARING ADVENTURER. It was at Diest, the gallant little town on the left flank of the line of defence, writes Mr William Maxwell in the London Daily Telegraph. At the table in the commandant’s office sat a man in civilian clothes writing a despatch. His clean - shaven face showed force and decision. ‘.‘The correspondent of the Daily Telegraph,” said the commandant. The man at the table rose from his chair, took me firmly by the hand, and drew me to a seat at his side. “M. T—, on special service for the Military Cabinet of the Minister of War.” In order that there might be no mistake about his name and his office, he wrote them on a large sheet of paper with a large blue pencil. His manner was effusive. ‘‘You would like some news. Here is my repoitto headquarters. Show him the letter found on the German officer.” The black-bearded man with the frank, healthy face, who sat on the other side of the table, handed me a translation he was making into French. ‘‘You see how the Germans are afraid of us. Be sure and put that in your paper,” said M.T. AN AMAZING BULLDOG. A woman in white, with a red cross on her arm, flitted about the room, hunting among the trophies of war for souvenirs. She evidently had a taste for autographs, and had appropriated a score of documents found on German prisoners. ‘‘Maderae T —We talked —or rather she talked about her exploits in the war. ‘T am coming here to-morrow in an aeroplane.” A wonderful woman. She spoke to me in French, but once she let slip the word “Ja,” It is a very ordinary word in this part of Belgium, but madame chose to correct it instantly with a ‘‘Oui.” There was another member of the party —a bulldog. We were introduced to one another, “A fellow countryman of yours,” said M.T.-—. But it was a French bulldog. Like every thing connected with M.T—. it was an amazing animal. ‘‘This dog,” said M.T —pressing his lips against the muzzle of the animal, •‘carried messages from the German lines to the forts at Liege. We managed it in this way. One of my old coats was cut into small pieces and distributed in a wood, where an agent in the enemy’s camp came with his reports. Those reports, written on tiny scraps of paper, were inserted in the dog’s collar, and he found me by the scent of my oltl coat.” Had Baron Munchausen come to life again, and what was a civilian doing in a military commandant’s office, taking complete control, reading all the confidential reports, and ordering everybody about ? It was certainly strange, but M.T—. had an n-mlet with the magic letters “S.M.'' —Service Militaire—and Commandant van Dooran was evidently satisfied with the man’s papers of identity. A SPECIAL TRAIN. M. T—insisted on giving me his report to headquarters. ‘‘You can copy it for your paper, and be sure m tell about the bulldog. H p re is his photograph.” We went to lunch at an advocate’s house, of which M. T—instantly took possession. A masterful man, M. T—, who told a story well. Vou ought to be on the stage,” I suggested, after he had given a most dramatic account of an encounter with a German officer. The party had made up its mind to return to Louvain and Brussels by train, but 1 was so interested in everyone of its members that I offered them the use of my motor-car. M. not listen to the proposal. He would have a special

train. Let someone telephone to the slalionmaster. Let a gendarme be sent to say that M. T—‘ on special service for the Military Cabinet of the Minister of War, must have a special train. ‘‘You cannot have one,” said our host the advocate. ‘‘What !” exclaimed the deputy of the Military Cabinet. ‘‘Who will dare to refuse tiie ?” ‘There is no train available,” explained the advocate, in apologetic tones. M. T— missed his train for some unknown reason, and we went together to the commandant's office, where he asked for a pair of field glasses to add to his collection of loot. ‘‘You would like to know where the British Army is ?” he said to roe. As I had been searching the whole country for a week I confessed that my curiosity was great. “I will tell you,” replied M.T — calling a young officer to the table and writing down his name —for preferment. ‘Tell this gentleman where the British are,” commanded the delegate of the Military Cabinet. “I don’t know,” replied the officer, with evident sincerity. ‘‘You see how well the secret is kept,” observed M. T—. *T am not allowed to disclose it, though I have shown you greater confidence than any stranger I have met.” SUBSEQUENT ARREST. We said good-bys late in the afternoon. Next day I was again at Diest and made enquiries about M. T — and his wonderful companions. They had arrived in the town at three o’clock one morning and taken possession of the advocate’s house as well as the commandant’s office ; they had visited all the positions and outposts, and made themselves thoroughly acquainted with the strength of the position and the number of the garrison. ‘‘Have they returned ?” I asked the commandant. No, they had not returned. ‘‘Are you not suspicious of them ?” “Tes, I took care to give them nothing of great importance. Moreover, I sent a man to Brussels with orders that if they did not present their report to the War Office they were to be carefully observed.” Next day I was glancing over the newspapers when my eye caught a paragraph announcing the arrest of a certain M. T— and his mistress, in whose lodgings were found important documents and a large sum of German money. I have not the least doubt as to M. T—’s identity, for I made enquiries at headquarters. Nor have I any doubt as to his fate. He was a bold and courageous man —though a traitor. I met my host again at Diest, and he seemed greatly relieved to find at least one of his guests at liberty. He told me how the patty oyer-reached itself. M. T —. who bad a craze for notoriety, sent a telegram to a stationmaster down the line purporting to come from headquarters at Louvain, and telling him to give a good welcome to M. T —, of the Military Cabinet of the Minister of War. Anxious to make sure of his reception, M, T — telephoned to ask the stationmoster if such a telegram had been received. This roused suspicion, and an enquiry by telephone to Louvain led to the arrest. I wonder what has become of the dog.