Part 46

Then a poilu looked back. It was a miserable, gray, shrouded morning, when the shadow cast by any object is merely a blur around that object—the whole a blot upon a cloudy plain. The mill stood, a black, spectral shape in the fog, on a slight eminence, the most commanding point in the surrounding country. As he looked, suddenly a long, black arm fell, abruptly, while the corresponding one, lighter in color, rose a foot or two. Besides the troops, it was the only moving thing in that breathless landscape. “Sacré-bleu!” a poilu exclaimed. As one and another began to gape behind them at his sudden start of surprise, slowly the whole motion was reversed. Light arm down, black arm up. Nothing more occurred. The mill was as motionless as they, though afterwards some of them declared that they had been able to see Tom Bene himself, hanging, with a ghastly face, athwart the arms, as men are sometimes hung to the spokes of a wheel. Then, as a sound came from the German trenches, as with one impulse, the men rushed—back toward the mill, which they literally, by means of fire and bombs, tore shred from shred. Then they turned to meet the Germans, who, warned by this extraordinary wigwagging, by whatever agency or agencies, had instituted a counter-attack. The French were not driven, but they stood the attack in their own trenches. “Afterwards, to those who had been there to see, more vivid than the angels at Mons, more vivid than the vision of the Little Corporal, to those who thought they saw it, was that gray morning, the foiled attack, and this malevolent motion of a secret intelligence in a dream landscape.”

[Illustration:

© _Century._

Belfry of the Cathedral at Ypres

No city had more bombardments than Ypres during the World War. The Germans used heavy siege-guns which made great holes often 50 feet across and 30 feet deep. This picture shows the effect of the great shells on the great cathedral of Ypres.]

ALOIS THE SILENT

He Planned to End the War by Slaying Its Instigator and Failing—Died

One of the hero-martyrs of Belgium was Alois Van Keirsbilk, a well-to-do citizen of Thielt, beloved of his townspeople, a man of family, and a zealous patriot. He did what he might to serve, and many, they say in Thielt, were the services rendered. But there came a day when the rumor went round that the German Kaiser and his entourage were to visit Thielt, and Van Keirsbilk suddenly conceived a great project for the salvation of Belgium, for the liberation of the world from the nightmare of war. Egbert Hans tells the story of Alois Van Keirsbilk and it was first published in its completeness in the _New York Times_ of Sunday, June 22, 1919. But a little abbreviated, it is here reproduced as Hans told it:

“Thielt was the headquarters of the Fourth German Army and sheltered the Commander-in-Chief with a staff of hundreds of officers. Alois Van Keirsbilk was chief conductor on the railway between Thielt and Bruges. Also he was the chief of a secret organization which had only one object—‘help to our boys and death to the enemy.’ The organization was in communication with the Belgian army through spies who made regular trips into Holland across the ‘cable of death,’ and many a German plan originated at headquarters in Thielt failed, thanks to the activity of Alois and his men.

“It was not long before Alois saw his chance for a big stroke. The Kaiser was coming to Thielt on the first of November. A desperate attack was to be made against the Belgian forces along the Yser and from there on against Ypres and Dunkirk, and Wilhelm II in person was to inspect the preparations.

“Kill the Kaiser and the war will be over, was the firm conviction of Alois and his friends, and they set to work. Alois acquired all the information that his organization could procure as to the movements and schedule of the imperial visitor, and sent all the details to his agents in the Belgian army, with the request that airmen be sent at the opportune moment ‘to kill the Kaiser!’

“Only one of the three messengers who were sent out reached the other side of the electric cable, for at that time the guards were doubled. But one was sufficient, and when the first of November came Alois felt confident that something would happen.

“THE BEST LAID PLANS”

“The big dinner at which the Kaiser and his staff were to gather around the table, and for which all the best silver in town had been requisitioned, was to begin at 2 o’clock. At that moment anxious eyes watched the sky toward the west. Would they come, the airmen with their bombs to do the deed that would finish the war? Would they be in time?

“At 2.15 there was a speck in the blue sky. It grew bigger and bigger, and bigger, and soon the watchers distinguished three flying machines. In haste Alois communicated with his friends. Barely had those who were warned taken shelter when the first explosion was heard. Then for a few minutes the town of Thielt shuddered as bomb after bomb exploded.

“It was a well-managed raid and the daring airmen escaped in safety, but it was all in vain. There had been a sudden change in the Kaiser’s schedule and the war lord had left Thielt at 2 o’clock sharp. During the bombardment his motor cars were speeding along the road to Bruges and his life was safe.

“But the commander of the Fourth German Army raged in his private office at the _kommandatur_. The secret of the visit had plainly got out. The Kaiser, the idol of 70,000,000 Germans, had barely escaped death. The guilty had to be found and punished.

“A contra-spy system was organized at once and large sums were promised for any bit of information. Slowly but surely Alois was drawn into the net woven by a most minute and complete investigation. On Feb. 2 he was summoned to the _kommandatur_ and taken prisoner. Already three of his coöperators were there.

“It was then that Alois Van Keirsbilk showed the courage which won for him the name of ‘the Silent Hero.’ He knew that one word spoken lightly might betray the whole of his organization, and his last word to his friends who were still free had been, ‘Do not let my absence or death scare you; but keep up the work that we have been doing.’ After his arrest nothing could induce him to speak even a word. All devices, old and new, were tried by the _kommandatur_—tortures as well as promises, the menaces of a cruel death, and the promise of life in luxury. It was all in vain. Perhaps Alois thought of the many lives he had in his hands. Anyway, he remained silent.

“He was condemned to death on Feb. 25, and then the Germans created and applied as devilish a scheme of mental torture for a human being as could be devised. Alois had two children, and a third was to be born soon.

“‘On the day that new life enters your home your life will end unless you speak,’ said the German inquisitor. Undoubtedly Alois thought of his wife, who would be calling for him that day more than ever. Perhaps he thought of the new baby also. Nevertheless he was still true to his name, ‘the Silent.’

“On the 5th of April a little girl was born in the Van Keirsbilk home. It might seem unbelievable, but evidently the Germans had waited for the event. On the same day they sent official word to ‘Madame Van Keirsbilk’ that if she desired to see her husband still alive, she could see him that day at 3 o’clock in the prison at Ghent. A merciful neighbor nurse saw to it that the message did not reach the mother, then nursing her day-old baby. Instead the eldest girl, 10 years old, was sent to the prison to see her father. Full of joy, in her happy ignorance, she exclaimed:

“‘Oh, father, you must come home with me. We have a little sister, and mother wants to show it to you. Come, father!’

“But father could not come. He pressed his little girl in his arms. He could not tell her she would never see him again, for he wanted to spare the mother, who had to live for the children. Not a word did he say. One kiss, and the big prison gate closed after the child, while her father prepared himself to die.

FACED DEATH A HERO

“His end came next morning at half-past five in the _cour_ of the prison. Four Belgians were to fall that day. When Van Keirsbilk arrived at the place of execution three were already lying dead against the wall. For some unknown reason he went to the muzzles of twelve German rifles alone.

“He refused to be blindfolded. ‘Let not a German hand touch me in this solemn moment when I die for my country. I have no fear of your bullets,’ the Belgians heard that he said, and erect he waited for the moment when his agony would come to an end. A few seconds later his body, with those of his comrades in death, was thrown into the ditch.

“In the afternoon of the same day a German soldier knocked at the door of the ‘Widow Van Keirsbilk’ and delivered a parcel to the devoted neighbor who was caring for the new baby and its mother. The woman opened it, and with horror found that it contained the suit of clothes of the unhappy master of the house. That was the German announcement of his death.

“Loving friends managed to keep the news from the widow for several days, although the continual absence of her husband plainly made her fear. But one morning she was looking through the window into the street, when the church bells began to ring for a funeral service. The people attending looked up at her and nodded with sympathy. None told her, but perhaps the unhappy woman read the pity that was in the eyes of the passers-by. Nobody knows, but suddenly a terrible look of suspicion came into her eyes. She rushed downstairs, where the neighbor nurse was preparing the meal for the children, and, seizing her by the arms, cried out:

“‘Who is dead? For whom are the bells ringing? Is it for Alois? Tell me, or I will run out into the street and find out. I must know where Alois is. I must know it if he is dead.’ Then and there the sad news had to be broken, and the widow of Alois began a time of lonely misery only broken by the struggle to keep her three children fed and clothed.”

[Illustration:

_Courtesy of Red Cross Magazine._

A Long-Range Bombardment

Italian artillery bombarding Austrian trenches on a distant mountain-side, preparatory to a general attack.]

Egbert Hans concludes his story of Alois the Silent:

“To-day the Belgian flag flows again from the tower of Thielt and the thrifty people of Flanders are busy rebuilding their homes. Many of the men are missing; some died on the battlefield, others in prison, but all died fighting for the small strip of land they called their own, and those who remain cherish the memory of their heroes. They will tell their stories to their children and grandchildren, thus adding another page to the glorious history of Flanders, and among those stories will be that of Alois Van Keirsbilk, who tried to end the war by ending its instigator, and who failed and died, silent.”

EYE OF THE MORNING

The Popular Dutch Dancer Who Played the Rôle of German Spy to Her Cost

A story redolent of intrigue, adventure and a kind of romance is that of “Mata-Hari”—which is Japanese for “Eye-of-the Morning,” and is the name by which a Dutch dancer was known in the rendezvous of the light world of the European capitals before the war. Her real name is Marguerite Gertrude Zelle McLeod, and in 1917 her public and dashing career of art and adventure came to an abrupt stop by her arrest, trial, condemnation, and imprisonment, under sentence of death, in the prison of St. Lazare, Paris. She was condemned as a German spy, the specific offense being the betrayal to the Germans of the secret of the new, carefully guarded war weapon, the Tank. Reams have been written about this woman since her arrest, but nothing probably that would have anything like the interest for the public that will attach to the “memoirs,” the writing of which, reporters say, was her prison occupation.

Among the stories published at the time was one in the New York _World_ in October, 1917, that presented what was known of her connection with the leak of the tank secret. The success of the tank depended largely on the element of surprise when it was put into the fighting front. Therefore the planning, construction and shipment of tanks to the Somme were conducted with the utmost possible secrecy. Necessarily, however, a certain number of persons in France and England were in a position to know; but, as it took a good many months to get the machines in readiness and habituate a crew to their rolling, pitching, sickening motion, the circle of those who knew more or less about it increased, and in some way not yet explained, Mata-Hari learned something of the secret. It is rumored that a member of the Chamber of Deputies inadvertently gave her her first information. The _World_ said the rumor was strengthened by the fact that Mata-Hari had plenty of coal for her apartment during the fuel famine that winter. That in itself is proof enough to everybody of her intimacy with some high official, as few people, short of Deputies, had influence enough to obtain a hundredweight of coal during the bitter months of January, February, and March.

“In any event, Mata-Hari learned vaguely of tanks early in 1916, when the Krupp guns of the Crown Prince were daily booming nearer and nearer to Verdun in that terrific struggle which was to mark the turning-point of the war. Mata-Hari also learned that the tanks were being constructed in England, and would be shipped to France via certain ports—and she got the names of the ports, too.”

[Illustration: Zeppelin _L-15_ Sinking Off the Kentish Coast

The airship was brought down April 1, 1916, by British anti-aircraft guns.]

Suddenly, Mata-Hari, then in Paris, decided to return to Holland, her native land, explaining to curious inquirers that she married a Dutch army officer with a Scotch name (McLeod) who had divorced her and that she was going to arrange a settlement.

SHE ACQUIRES A DRAGON

“The dancer proceeded to Rotterdam. Investigation there has since proved that she had no ‘communal rights property’ to settle with any one, and further that Captain MacLeod of the Dutch Army was known among his fellow officers as pronouncedly pro-German.

“Soon Mata-Hari returned to Paris. She was seen at the Café de Paris and at Maxim’s, and at Armenonville in the Bois with an English officer who wore on the lapel of his collar, as insignia denoting his branch of service, a little twisted brass dragon. Months later, when more of these badges were seen on British officers passing through Paris, it became known that the dragon was of the official insignia denoting service with the tanks.

“Mata-Hari sported a new bauble soon after taking up with the Englishman—a jeweled replica of his gold insignia—her dragon had real emeralds for eyes, and a carrot-shaped ruby for a tongue darting from its opened fangs.

“In May, 1916, a little more than a month before the Somme offensive opened and tanks were first used, Mata-Hari appeared before the police magistrate of her district and requested a safe conduct to visit a certain port in France. The reason she gave was that her fiancé, an English officer, was seriously wounded and in hospital there. He had sent for her to come to see him. Perhaps they would be married at his death-bed if he could not recover, she volunteered, dabbing at her eyes with a lace handkerchief. The safe conduct was made out, and Mata-Hari arrived at a certain French port almost simultaneously with the first consignment of tanks shipped over from England.”

She spent the greater part of her time for a week strolling about the town making frequent excursions by night, and then just a month before Foch and Haig began their drive along the Somme she appeared again in Paris.

“The first thing she did was to apply for a visé on her passport permitting her to go to Spain. San Sebastian was the place she mentioned, as she explained she wished to attend the horse-races there. Her papers were stamped and sealed and she left almost immediately for the fashionable winter resort in the south.

“Madrid, Spain, and Nauen, Germany, are in constant wireless communication. There are other radio stations, privately owned, in Spain which can flash messages to Germany, according to Allied intelligence officers who have investigated. And of course there are innumerable German agents, spies, and propaganda disseminators infesting the land of the Dons.

“Secret service reports disclose the fact that Mata-Hari was seen much in company at San Sebastian race-track with a man long looked upon with suspicion by the French government. He was a frequent caller upon her at the hotel where she stopped, and it was reported that he made many of the big bets she placed on horses that did not materialize as winners.

AGAIN THE DEPUTY

“Soon Mata-Hari came back to Paris and the apartment near the Bois de Boulogne. And once more the limousine owned by the individual whom rumor has branded a Deputy began rolling up to her door twice a week and sometimes oftener.

“Then came the simultaneous Franco-British offensive at the Somme. Tanks went into action for the first time, and according to General Haig’s official _communiqué_ his ‘Land ships achieved satisfactory results.’”

But, notwithstanding the “satisfactory results,” several of the tanks were surprisingly put out of action and the investigation of the how and the wherefore revealed the fact that they had been disabled by a peculiar, small-caliber penetrating shell unlike anything known before. They were fired by guns of a special manufacture.

Instantly it became evident that the enemy had become aware of what was in store for him and had constructed an “anti-tank” gun. And when the booty in the captured German positions was examined, the British found they had several good specimens of Krupps’ newest weapon. Several German officers of higher rank taken prisoners confirmed suspicions by explaining they had received description of the tanks several weeks before, and had been instructed how to combat them.

Suspicion aroused, items of information, curious circumstances in accountable movements, bits of gossip were put together and military law took charge of Mata-Hari.

For some reason the finish of her memoirs is not yet; but the fictionist, attempting to forecast a sensation, has written this:

“So Mata-Hari writes feverishly, and all Paris waits eagerly!—except the one who waits apprehensively—to see if she will name the _ami_ who gave her the first inkling of the tanks.

“Pinned to the corsage of the Empire-cut black silk dress which Mata-Hari wears in her narrow cell in St. Lazare prison is a curious gold brooch. It is shaped like a twisted dragon, and its eyes are emeralds!”

BETTER WRECKER THAN SPY

Scion of a Noble Prussian Family Who Failed to Deliver the Goods

Though he may not have been a conspicuous success as a spy, Gustav Constantin Alvo von Alvensleben had a very decided record as a wrecker. Through his directive genius many concerns, industrial and financial, went to utter smash, involving the loss of an unknown but huge number of millions of dollars and causing a suicide or two. In the brief span of years between 1904 and 1911 Alvo rose from the precarious state of a hobo to the lofty plane of millionairedom. That is a performance that requires some doing, and indicates a mental aptitude for the peculiar office of “playing your fellow man” considerably above the ordinary.

And Gustav, or, as he was more commonly named, Alvo, played with no mean counters. Among his clients was Kaiser Wilhelm himself, who, through Alvo, invested two and a half million dollars in British Columbia timber. Other clients were the ex-Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg, Gen. von Mackensen, the conqueror of Rumania; Emma von Mumm, the champagne queen; Bertha Krupp, the gun woman, and others of equal prominence in Germany. The companies he organized or coupled up with his enterprises—nearly all of which collapsed when the shadow of war blighted Alvo’s golden prospects—included the Alvensleben Canadian Finance and General Investment Company, the Standard Fish and Fertilizer Co., the Vancouver Timber and Trading Co., the Piercite Powder Co., the German-Canadian Trust Co., etc. Also with these went several of the Pacific Coast’s largest financial and industrial concerns, including the Bank of Vancouver, the Issaquah and Superior Coal Mining Company of Seattle, and the Dominion Trust Company, whose failure following the alleged suicide of its managing director, W. R. Arnold, was one of the greatest scandals in the history of the Dominion of Canada.

Two private banks of Seattle closed their doors as a result of their connection with the I. and S. Coal Company, one of the projects of the gambler-financier. The final liquidation of his original real estate and financial company in Vancouver disclosed liabilities of over one and a half millions, with assets of about $3,000, insufficient to satisfy the liquidator’s fees.

NOT A NONDESCRIPT

It is assumed that Alvo would have been able to extricate himself from his difficulties and avert the bankruptcy into which he was forced but for the outbreak of war. The fatality lay in the fact that all his investments were in countries with which the Kaiser was or was about to be at war.

But to begin at the beginning, as we find it in an issue of the _Canadian Courier_ of October, 1917, when Alvo’s career came to a conclusion, temporarily at least, by his internment as a spy.

[Illustration:

© _National Service._

Protecting French Works of Art

A scaffolding built around the statue of “Flore” at Versailles to protect it from enemy air raids.]

He was not a mere nondescript adventurer. He was the youngest son of Count Werner Alvo von Alvensleben, erstwhile German Ambassador to Russia, when Nicholas was Czar. The young man had a taste for the livelier side of life, gaily dissipated his allowance and seemed to regard college life not so much as an educational purpose as a convenience to the sowing of wild oats. This was not at all to the liking of Papa von Alvensleben and in an hour of unsuppressed wrath and resentment he cast the young man off and bade him shift for himself. This was an unexpected climax to his pleasure quest, and rather shocked Alvo. He remembered that the Kaiser was an intimate friend of his father’s, of the family indeed, and it jarred his pride to be an outcast from a circle of such distinction. He felt under obligation to reëstablish himself in the good graces of his father and the august personage whom he had so often familiarly _hoched_. So he set out to subdue some fraction of the world to his service and credit. He did not immediately find a field of action.