Evening Star Newspaper, March 9, 1930, Page 87

The Dangerous and Feared Ace of Ger= many sSecret Army, WhoLed the Life of a Jekyll and Hyde, Was Finally Outwitted and Caught by an American Spy and “Zero,”” the Man of Mystery. This second 8 series of true sto grv‘a‘c in the W.=¢III War; the first story of the master spy’s successes in outwitting the allies. HE mystery of the Master, which the French chief' had called terrible, might have been unsolved but for events that had happened in Ger- a picturesque city of the romantic Rhineland. They had peace and comfort, busy days and happy evenings after the sun had set on vineclad slopes; father and mother; the daughter, Margrete, blue-eyed and fair, always laughing; two boys, one to be e rather slender but bright and cheerful, the other straight- backed, ruddy, proud of his uniform of officer in a crack German regi- ment. How happy they were, they and their American friend and guest. when the young officer was ordered to join the Kaiser's personal staff. “I feel as I felt in "70, when I won my Iron Cross,” said his old soldier father, as they bade farewell to the new aide-de- camp of their Emperor. “It is a great honor,” he confided to the American. “Our Kaiser is strict with his personal staff, but what an opportunity!” A few days later the Ameri- ean had to leave reluctantly, to say good-by to Margrete with her songs and laughter, standing arm in arm with the other brother who had stopped coming. Then the war, and, though the American had wondered often, he had heard no more. When the United States en- tered the war the American, like many who knew Germany, had been assigned to secret service work in Switzerland. And now he had been asked to help hunt Germany’s greatest spy, known as the Master. ON this task he concentrated eagerly, study- ing papers in the Master's dossiers in PFrench or American files, cudgeling his brains day and night, seeking odd haunts, watching every face. And so, because he courted Lady Luck, she smiled on him. One day, out of the procession of faces in streets, cafes, theaters, he caught a familiar one. It was the face of the slight, home-keeping younger brother of the peaceful Rhineland days. But how changed! The tace was emaciated; the eyes were staring from haggard, putty-colored cheeks. The body, slighter than ever, was bent a little, as if under a weight. He seemed a man pos- sessed by overmastering forces. The American was shocked. A rush of old memories mady him follow the German, who was in dark eivfl garb, down a side street to slap him on the back and cry his name in German. Startled, the man turned, then grasped the American’s hand with both of his, “We are still good friends,” he said. “Your Wilson has said it is only the goveraments that fight. We are not enemies.” They talked for a few minutes, the German seeming always tense, controlling himself with that his X he reverted to President Wilson, the American part in the war. Was it true that the Americans were really fighting to de- throne the Hohenzollerns? Again and again he asked about that with fanatical earnestness almost gruesome. 1l et e N‘: LA L1 “This man,” thought the American, *has something on his mind, and it's nearly killing him.” And aloud: “What are you doing in Switzerland?” The German’s face contorted painfully. “I am doing—government work,” he said at last, “work that I hate.” “Government work—that I hate.” The words leaped into fire before the American's eyes. What had he learned in the secret war? “Dis- trust everybody. Secret service knows three powerful motives—patriotism, hatred, greed. Use them.” But how? Which was the key to his friend’s secret? “It is not a nice thing,” he said 10 years Iater in his quiet American home, “to wheedle and goad an old friend into telling his inmost thoughts. But war is war. No one who does not know now must ever know who that man was.” Then, on promise that the German should be called, as the American secret service real® called him, “Zero,” the American retold his horrible story. He had heard it first there in Bern, after hours of talk, in which Zero had refused with evhat seemed fearful reluctance to “the good days before the war.” Sud- he gave in completely. “I CAN hold it back no longer,” he said, words tumbling out. “I¢ is more than my dis- ease that has changed me so. It is grief, and hatred. Though I am & German, “wohige- boren,” yet I Latg the German Empire as it is today. I hate the Hohenzollerns, I hate the army officers. Listen! : “You have talked about those happy . days when you visited us in the Rhineland. You remember our dear father and mother, and Margrete, and how our brother went to join the Kaiser's staff, and how glad we all were and went down to the station to see him off? That was the last happy day of my life, I think. Soon after my brother left us an at- THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MARCH 9, 1930. tempt was made to assassinate the Kaiser, one of several. Nerves shaken, the Kaiser with- drew to a secluded hunting lodge, taking a few trusted officers, including my brother. “The Kaiser slept in an inside bedroom, pro- tected by an ante room, where all night two officers took turns sleeping and standing guard. As dawn broke my brother lighted a cigarette, relaxed and unbuttoned his tunic. At that instant the Kaiser stepped into the room. “Embarrassed, because the Kaiser was such a stickler, my brother jumped to his feet, clicked his heels, and in an evil moment thrust his hand toward his tunic to button it. But sudden fear of another attempt to kill him seized the Kaiser. Like a flash he drew a revolver and shot my brother dead. “An instant later he realized what he had done and almost collapsed. He tried to make every amend. It was called a hunting accident, and a brother officer brought home the body. We were heartbrokeri but so thankful to that officer. A handsome fellow he was, a typical Prussian officer. Ah, that devil—I wish I had my hands on his throat.” Zero's emotion, stronger, almost everpowered “You have spoken of Margrete, my sister, how she sang and laughed. Your heart would break to see her now. He took her, then threw her off. ‘Ach, mejne Schwesterchen!’ ” A paroxysm of- coughing came, mingled with sobs. “After caring for her, I started to find him, and just then came the war. The empire dealt us blow after blow. - Mother died of grief and shock. PFather has not been the same, but they made me leave him and go into the army. You know I was never strong, and it all broke my health. They sent me here to Switzerland, but to. do their dirty work, to be a spy, slave of a man who typifies everything I most de- test. Now I have told you.” One emotion after another the American had felt, grief, anger, sympathy, but always he had remembered the game that duty, love of coun- try, made him play. Now the back of his neck began to tingle. He half arose from his seat. “Who is this man?” he asked. Zero looked up wearily. “They call him the Master,” he replied, “The Master?” the American’s voice thrilled. “Why, my old friend, God himself has given . aghast. They saw a man of hideous visage. They had caught the Master Spy in the act of changing himself into Von Hinem. you this chance for revenge. Every allled secret service in Switzerland wants the infor- mation you can reveal. It will hit the Ger- man Empire that you have reason to hate, harder than a lost battle.” That began a struggle, fought out by the German against e “All the world fights against that govern- ment,” the American cried. ‘“Why shouldn't you? It has fought you, killed your brother and your mother, ruined your sister, wrecked your health. If you don’t take this chance, i% will be on your soul until you die.” Finally he won. “God help me, I'll do it,” Zero whispered, and he began to tell what he knew about the Master. He could tell more than almost any, one in Switzerland, but not all at once. | NOW that he knew Zero's connection with the German secret service, he knew they could not be seen together. So each meeting must be in a different place, always one well hidden. The more securely concealed, the more Zero would tell. Danger was constant, and the American carried to these trysts revolver and blackjack. Always in the back of his mind was the thought, “Suppose he is leading me on after all.” But such of Zero's information as could be checked proved true. Then at a night meeting in a forest on the outskirts of Bern the Amer- ican pressed the German to “come clean,” and Zero promised. “Tomorrow morning,” he said, “take the early train for Zurich. The last compartmen of the last first-class . Come alone.” The American came alone but even then as with one hand he opened the door of the last first-class compartment, with the other hand he held in his pocket a Colt automatic. There might still be a trap. At first he saw nobody, in the darkened compartment, then a hoarse voice whispered, “Take this.” Zero, paler than ever in the half light, crouched in a corner. He pushed a violin case into the American’s “3t's ail there," he gasped, “inside the violin. Pus on these"—he handed the American a long Continued on Twelith Paze