An Officer and a Spy

‘I showed him one file only — it was not secret. It related to carrier pigeons, of all things. Major Henry witnessed that.’

‘Colonel Henry,’ Pellieux corrects me. ‘He has just been promoted. And I am not interested in pigeons but in the secret dossier about Dreyfus. You showed it to your lawyer last September, who then revealed it either to the Dreyfus family or to L’Éclair in order to embarrass the army. That is your modus operandi.’

‘I deny that absolutely.’

‘Who is Blanche?’

Once again the sudden switch in his angle of attack catches me off balance. I say slowly, ‘The only Blanche I know is Mademoiselle Blanche de Comminges, the sister of the comte de Comminges.’

‘She is a friend of yours?’

‘Yes.’

‘An intimate friend?’

‘I have known her a long time, if that is what you mean. She has a musical salon attended by a number of officers.’

‘She sent you this telegram in Tunisia: We have proof that the bleu was forged by Georges. Blanche. What are we to make of that?’

‘I received a telegram with that wording. But I am sure it was not from her.’

‘Why?’

‘Because she knows nothing of the secret details of the Dreyfus case nor of my involvement in it.’

‘Even though she has gone around Paris quite openly, I understand, for several years now, telling people of her conviction that Dreyfus is innocent?’

‘She has her opinion. That has nothing to do with me.’

‘This salon of hers — does it include many Jews?’

‘A few perhaps — among the musicians.’

Pellieux makes another note, as if I have just conceded something highly significant. He searches through his file. ‘Here is another coded telegram sent to you in Tunisia: Stop the Demigod. Everything is discovered. Extremely serious matter. Speranza. Who is Speranza?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘And yet this person wrote to you a year ago, shortly after you left the Statistical Section.’

‘No.’

‘Yes, they did. I have the letter here.’ Pellieux gives it to the captain, who once again walks round to hand it to me:

I am leaving the house. Our friends are dismayed. Your unfortunate departure has upset everything. Hasten your return, hurry! As the holiday time is very favourable for the cause, we are counting on you for the 20th. She is ready but cannot and will not act until she has talked to you. Once the Demigod has spoken, we will act.

Speranza

Pellieux stares at me. ‘What do you say to that?’

‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve never seen it before.’

‘No, you wouldn’t have done. It was intercepted by the Statistical Section last December and a decision was taken not to forward it to you, due to the highly suspicious nature of the language. But still your position remains that none of it means anything to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then what do you make of this, which was allowed to be delivered to you after you left Paris but before you went to Tunisia?’

Most honourable sir,

I would never have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. As of today, the masterpiece is finished: we are to call it Cagliostro Robert Houdin. The comtesse speaks of you all the time and tells me every day that the Demigod asks when it will be possible to see the Good God.

Her devoted servant who kisses your hand.

J

The copy has been written out by Lauth and is stamped ‘Secret’, with a serial number appended by Gribelin. I remember reading the original when I was stuck in some godforsaken garrison town last winter: in my drab quarters it was like opening a bouquet from the boulevard Saint-Germain. I say, ‘It’s from an agent of mine, Germain Ducasse. He’s reporting on the closing-down of an operation I was running against the German Embassy. When he writes “the masterpiece is finished” he means that the apartment we were renting has been cleared out successfully. “Robert Houdin” is the cover name of a police agent, Jean-Alfred Desvernine, who was working for me on the investigation of Esterhazy.’

‘Ah,’ says Pellieux, as if he has caught me out. ‘So “J” is a man?’

‘Yes.’

‘And yet he “kisses your hand”?’

I think how amused Ducasse would be if he could see the general’s expression of disgusted disbelief.

Pellieux says, ‘Don’t smirk, Colonel!’