Evening Star Newspaper, March 23, 1930, Page 103

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, MARCH 23, 1930. oT ™ - Who Was Fraulein Doktor, Blond Arch Spy? Continued from Eleventh Page about the ships, and also, as exactly as pos- sible, the place where they meet the warships, Believe me, if it is handled in the proper way, one can learn enough in the cafe! It is visited only by Englishmen, Norwegians and Danes. She is on a good footing with these men and can be of the greatest use to us. When the English genfler%en have too much they talk like anything.” “I feel very uneasy. Yesterday morning I thought I saw the Spaniard who gave evi- dence in the Mississippi affair at Washington (White House) about what happened the night of June 11, 1912, It cannot be true, as he died on that terrible night. I don’t like to be laughed at, at Stelle 1. I cannot forget it, though, as the Spaniard -looked at me in such a sharp way. I have an idea that I am being shadowed. ; H. E. “Plesae burn this letter at once.” Poor “dark eyes.” Perhaps they were not seeing things, and the owner really was being shadowed. Certainly her letters were being intercepted, and the parts quoted here show not only the methods of the woman spy, but the semi-hysterical state that, some say, makes her so often useless to her employers. Like, for instance, Bella Donna. The Ameri- can secret service in Switzerland fooled her, not so long after the capture of the Master. Here is the story: Ofllott}-z'lbutmu,ulomolthe biggest practical jokes one army ever played upon another, was the Alsace ruse. By tricks almost Machiavellian, the Germans were warned of a big American attack in Alsace to reach the Rhine, when really we were preparing to attack some distance away, at St. Mihiel, and, later, even farther away, in the Meuse-Argonne. Maj. Gen. Omar Bundy, commanding the 6th Corps, and his chief of staff, Brig. Gen. Briant H. Wells, were sent, with staff officers, to Belfort, in French Alsace, where they openly established headquerters and drafted plans for the fake attack, while parties from seven American divisions reconnoitered French trenches. Then came a stroke of genius. Col. Conger wrote Gen. Pershing a letter outlining the fake Alsace attack plan, and saying all that was needed now was the commander-in-chief’s 0. k. He made a carbon copy of the letter. Then he threw the crumpled carbon paper into the wastebasket of his hotel room in spy-infested Belfort and went out. When he returned soon afterward the carbon was gone. The Germans prepared to evacuate Mulhouse, our “objective,” moved more troops to Alsace and made other arrangements showing that they expected an attack there—an attack that never came. G-2 handled the Alsace Ruse according to a law of secret service originated long before Fraulein Doktor was heard of; whenever pos= sible, keep secret from each of your own agents what the others are doing. To this day, some Americans who participated think they alone, or almost alone, were in the secret. Actually, a number were, Americans and French. There was, for instance, Capt. A , who after re- billets for Gen. Bundy's staff, “picked up” in fairly rapid succession, a half-dozen of the more gregarious young ladies of Belfort and bought each in turn drinks enough to justify the loquaciousness with which, in excellent French and Germans, he boasted of the great American attack that was being prepared. BILI'ORT was less than 20 miles from the frontier of Switzerland, that great switch- board of the German secret service, whence news would flash to great headquarters at Spa and to Berlin. In Berne was even a better place to sow the seeds of false information, and the chief of the American secret service there was so reminded. “The Americans,” he was in- formed, “are going to make a big attack in Alsace. . The German secret service may be in- terested to hear about it. See that they do.” He must do that, the American chief re- flected, without disclosing the identities of any of his men whom the German did not know already. But he knew that they had spotted two or three Amercans “doing some intelligence work.” No harm in using them in the ruse; in fact, it would distract attention. So a few days later the German chief in Switzerland began to get reports. “X and Y, suspected American agents,” was their purport, “are going to all the libraries and book stores in Berne, searching for informa- tion about Alsace. They ask for data about geography, topography, railroads, roads. They want to buy books or maps, and offer good prices to overcome the book sellers’ objection to violating the Swiss neutrality regulations.” Geography, topography, railroads, roads! Just what an invading army must know about. The German chief handed those reports to his best code expert. “Get them into Germany im- mediately!” he orderéed. Then he calied in some agents, among them the heroine of this plece, the damsel, Bella Donna. Bella: Donna, it might be explained, was what the Americans called her. She was a handsome creature, dark, tall, graceful, with the exotic Russian air and ges- tures. Perhaps that was why the German chief had “put her on” the Americans, to scrape acquaintance with young secretaries of legation or military attaches, who handled ea¢h day precious documents, yet were young enough to be gallant and succumb before those lovely eyes. So she ogled them and rolled them, flashed them and melted them, but to little purpose. The Americans simply would not succumb. “Wonder what she puts in those lamps?” they asked one another, and christened her “Bella Donna.” Her real mame does not :escend to us. Now, the German chief told er: “You have one last chance. We hear that the Americans are going to attack in Alsace. We must have confirmation. If you can get it, you keep your job. If not, you lose it.” so that evening in late August, 1918, the woman spy posed herself fascinatingly on a hotel divan, scanning soulfully if a little anxiously the cosmopolitan crowd that flowed in and out. American faces remained impas- sive, unmoved by arts of veiled seduction that years in the German service had taught her. Then for an instant they leaped, as with long strides a tall, rather youthful man crossed the lobby. A big fish, she thought, in position to know something about the Alsace attack, if any “Why, Mademoiselle,” he beanied, coming up with outstretched hand, “you are charming this evening. - And who could resist that smile? ‘Won'’t you come into the bar and have a cock- tail before dinner?” Bar? Cocktail? Bella Donna heard the words in a rosy mist. The eyes would still do it, she told herself joyously. “I should be charmed, Monsieur,” she said demurely. There was & laughing noisy crowd in the bar, at once her escort caught its spirit. “Otto,” he cried to the rubicund bartender, who was something of a character in Berne, “Otto, the two stiffest Martinis you ever mixed! Then two more—and make them stiffer.” In a little nook, they were gay and talkative, speaking first French, then English, which they both knew well. But as the Martinis grew stiffer, the American’s tongue grew thicker. His head rolled, then fell forward upon his chest. He slept. Now the great eyes flashed indeed, as Bella Donna leaned forward. “Otto,” she whispered, ‘‘come stand in front of us.” Then, shi‘lded by the broad aproned figure, rapidly and with expert fingers she searched the American, and, with a little cry, found a long narrow envelope. “Let him sleep a moment until I return,” she told Otto, and disappeared. In her room in the hotel she lighted an elec-. tric heater under a small teakettle, steamed open the envelope and drew out the single sheet, folded twice, of an official paper. What she read made the eyes glow with tri- umph. It was an order, in proper official form, from Gen. Nolan, commanding G-2 at Ameri- can G. H. Q. France, to the chief of the Ameri- can secret service in Switzerland, directing that he send at once to G. H. Q. all men in his serv- ice who had ever been in Alsace, or had knowledge of the country, or spoke its patois. Intelligence officers for an invading army! The very news the German chief wanted! Notes of Art and Artists. Lontinued From NW": Page' tures, as well as & group of 10 portrait draw- in crayon and colored chalk, and two place of honor in the ex- A . James J. Davis, which carries conviction as a likeness and has pleasing pic- effect. special interest to many visitors to this exhibition is a portrait of Ernest Thompson Seton, rather modernistically rendered, but a ~rong characterization. Among the most pleasing of the garden pic- tures are those of the garden at Abremont of Mrs. Henry Parson Erwin and a glimpse of a walk at “Evermay,” flower bordered. Of the portrait drawings much can be said in praise. One of Mrs. Moncure Robinson in red chalk is not only subtle in manner but inter- pretative in the best sense. Portraits of Mrs. Charles P, Stont and Miss Electra Webb are A portrait of Dr, Charles Greeley Abbot, secre- tary of the Smithsonian Institution, is remark- Corcoran School of Art and at George Wash- ington University, a frequent contributor to local exhibitions, while in the reception room and dining room there will be placed on view water colors by Frances Hungerford Combs, a Washington painter, whose works are well known here. Mrs. Combs is on the executive board of the Washington Water Color Club. EGINNING yesterday and continuing for a : week, an exhibition of paintings by Hilde- garde Hamilton of Lexington, Va., will be held at the Carlton Hotel, sponsored by the Art Promoters’ Club. Hildegarde Hamilton (in private life Mrs, L. H. Ryland) has recently held an exhibition at the Ainslie Galleries, New York, which received high commendation from critics. She and her husband spent several months last year travel- ing in Europe, spending considerable time in the south of France, where, at Aix, they had a villa; visiting the Italian lakes, going into Czechoslovakia and adjacent regions. The paintings which may be seen in the current exhibition were for the most part made on this trip, though already 70 of the works which she brought home with her from Europe have passed into private ownership—an amazing record for a young artist. THE League of American Pen Women has sponsored & series of exhibitions by indi- vidual artists this season. For a fortnight, ending yesterday, paintings by Mrs. Walter Miles of this city were on view. Beg this afternoon and continuing to April 5, paint- ings by Grace M. Ruckman will be seen. Both Mrs. Miles and Mrs. Ruckman have studied under local instructors. Included among Mrs. Miles’ exhibits were portraits of her three daughters—charming subjects. Mrs. Ruckman’s exhibition, op:ning today with a tea from 4 to 6 p.m., will be free to the public from 2 to 5 p.m. week days. Reviews of the Nezw Books. Continued from Eighteenth Page S0, meet “Mrs. Angie-Bepler-Swisher-Edwards- Newton-Bellamy.” (With “Hymen supplying the hyphens.”) PEAKS OF HAZARD. By Sir Michael Bruce. Indianapolis: The Bobbs-Merrill Co, : Hl:'s bad such a glorious time, being alive, that to tell everybody about it is merely the most natural impulse in the world. We are all that way, No sooner do we come upon & single exciting moment than our next move is to find some one to tell it to. So with Sir Michael Bruce. He has been everyhere, pretty much—South Africa and all through the war, with Gallipoli to top that action; then to Brazil Books Received THREE DISCOURSES—Hymen's Recruiting Sergeant; The Drunkard’s Looking Glass; God’s Revenge Against Adultery. By Mason L. Weems, with an introduction by Emily E, P. Skeely. New York: Random House. LILAC CULTURE. By John C. Wister, presi- dent of the American Iris Society, author of “The Iris.” Ilustrated. New York: Orange Judd. THE CHERRY AND ITS CULTURE. By Vic- tor R. Gardner, horticulturist and director of the Michigan Agricultural Experiment ?e:t&lon. Hlustrated. New York: Orange udd. PAPER BOOKS—MY REMINISCENCES AS A COWBOY. By Frank Harris. Ilustrations gmwmlam Gropper. New York: Charles THE DEENIE MEN. By Jo McMahon, author and illustrator of “Good Faery Tales—Irish Ones.” Illustrated by the author. New York: Dutton. A HISTORY OF THE JEWS. By Paul Good- man. Revised edition. New York: Dutton. CONQUERING OUR GREAT AMERICAN PLAINS; a Historical Development. By Stuart Henry, author of “Villa Elsa,” etc. Illustrated. New York: Dutton. JACQUELINE AND THE JAPANESE. By Heinrich Eduard Jacob. Translated from the German by S. H. Cross. Boston: Little, Brown. STARS FOR SALE, Ruth W t. Phila- delphia: Penn. ied i THE FIERY DIVE; and Other Stories. By erfln Armstrong. New York: Harcourt, race. p PRODUCING PLAYS; ducers and Players. Illustrated. New York: Dutton. CONFUCIANISM; Ethics, Philosophy, Religion. By Frederick Starr, University of Chicago. New York: Covici-Friede. THE SEA. By H. A. Marmer, assistant chief, Division of Tides and Currents, United States Coast and Geodetic Survey, author of “The Tide.” Ilustrated. New York: Appleton. MYSELF AND THE THEATER. By Theodore Komisarjevsky. New York: Dutton. THE HOAX. By Italo Svevo. Translated from the Italian, with an introduction by Beryl de Zoete. New York: Harcourt, Brace. ELLA DONNA worked quickly. Disconnect- ing her electric wire from the heater, she connected it again with a little box-shaped in- strument taken from concealment. Soon she had an excellent photostat of the precious paper. Replacing the original in the envelope, which she glued shut and dried carefully, she hurried again to the bar. There still lay the American. Again shielded by Otto, she replaced the en- velope. Then she shook the sleeper. “Come, Monsieur Sleepyhead,” she cried gayly, “you have slept long enough. Let us dine.” Slowly the American raised a befuddled coun- tenance. “Wha'? Wha’?” he stammered, then with a sudden look of alarm clapped his hand to his inside coat pocket, and heaved a sigh of re- lief. Bella Donna struggled to keep triumph from the famous eyes. She bolted her dinner in manner American rather than Russian, made an excuse, hastened to the German chief. “Here,” she said, extending the photostat. “And you must apologize for ever doubting me. And I want a hundred marks more a week.” Meantime: “Hook, line and sinker!” the American told his chief exultingly. “Once, though, I thought it was all off. When she was searching me-— she tickled.” - “Guess I'll plant a waiter or a busboy in that bar,”s the chief mused, “now that we're sure Otto’s in with them.” He is sure today that the Germans really did swallow the bait thus enticingly dangled before for the allies. She was the antithesis of Bella Dormna, & Frenchwoman of patriotism as pure as the courage that kept her for four years behind the German lines, well within the danger zome, sending to her countrymen information of what went on there. Before the war one American secret service had known mistress of a fine chateau in the frontier. But she was French, and although - her husband was drafted into the German army_ . and sent to fight in Russia, though a German general and his staff took over the chateau, she remained, not to serve them, but to spy upon them. On clear days the French could see with pow= erful glasses from the eminence of Hartmanns- wellerkopf the chateau and its grounds. When there was washing on the line, they could see it, even count the number of sheets and pillow- cases and towels, see how they were Somehow, the French knew pretty well what German troops were moving ‘and where, behind the lines in Alsace. They knew when the Gere mans moved a division from Mulhouse to close behind the trenches where the American attack would come, replacing it with another division came from Constantinople. The American who thus rechristened her gathered that her proe fession there had acquainted her with diplo- mats, which made her valuable in Switzerland. , “susceptible to pate.” this favorite delicacy, she talked freely, as do others plied with wine. £Y Woman spies of deviousness almost unbelieve able plied precarious trade in neutral countries, working first for one power, then for another, sometimes for several at once. One little pere son, quiet but for flaming eyes trigue and danger that she worked for British, French, Americans—and Germans. tonuing with adventures of women spies in the World War, will appear in The Star Magezine next Sunday. (Copyright, 1930.) (Kol