An Officer and a Spy

him here in the rue Saint-Dominique, in the Chief of the General Staff’s office.’
    Mercier said, ‘What if he suspects a trap?’
    ‘Ah well, this is where Major Picquart comes in,’ said du Paty.
    I felt all eyes turn in my direction. I tried to stare ahead as if I knew what was coming.
    ‘Major Picquart,’ explained Gonse to Mercier, ‘was one of Dreyfus’s tutors at the École Supérieure. He runs the stagiaire programme.’
    ‘I know that.’ Mercier regarded me through his eye slits; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking.
    Du Paty continued: ‘I propose that Major Picquart waits for Dreyfus in the main entrance at nine o’clock and personally conducts him to General Boisdeffre’s office. Dreyfus knows him and trusts him. That should allay any suspicions.’
    There was a silence while the minister considered this.
    Mercier said, ‘And what do you think of this plan, Major Picquart?’
    ‘I am not sure Captain Dreyfus regards me as a particularly reassuring figure,’ I replied carefully, ‘but if Colonel du Paty believes my presence will be useful, then of course I shall play my part.’
    Mercier trained his eye slits back on du Paty. ‘So we have him in General Boisdeffre’s office. And then what do we do with him?’
    ‘General Boisdeffre will not be there . . .’
    ‘I should hope not!’ cut in Boisdeffre.
    ‘. . . instead, I’ll greet Dreyfus, explain that the Chief of the General Staff has been delayed, and ask him to take a seat. My right hand will be bandaged – I’ll say it’s injured – and I’ll ask Dreyfus to take down a letter for me, which I’ll dictate. By catching him unawares, I’ll make it hard for him to disguise his writing. Once I have sufficient evidence, I’ll give the signal and we’ll confront him.’
    ‘Who is “we”?’ asked Mercier.
    ‘With me in the room will be Superintendent Cochefort of the Sûreté – who is with us here – along with one of his men, and Monsieur Gribelin, archivist of the Statistical Section, who will make a verbatim record. Major Henry of the Statistical Section will be concealed behind a screen.’
    ‘So it will be five against one?’
    ‘Exactly, Minister. I believe with the benefit of numbers and surprise there is an excellent chance he will be break down and confess on the spot. In which case, I wish to make a further suggestion.’
    ‘Go on.’
    ‘That we offer him the honourable way out – I show him a service revolver with a single bullet, and he can finish it there and then.’
    There was a silence while Mercier considered this, then he inclined his head slightly. ‘Yes.’
    Boisdeffre said, ‘Good heavens! I would be grateful if he could do it away from my carpet – it’s an Aubusson.’
    Grateful laughter relieved the tension. Only Mercier didn’t smile. ‘And if he doesn’t take the traditional course, what then?’
    ‘Then Major Henry will escort him to Cherche-Midi prison,’ said du Paty, ‘while Cochefort and I go to the Dreyfus apartment and search it for evidence. I’ll warn his wife to say nothing of what has happened to her husband, or she’ll make it far worse for him. At Cherche-Midi, the governor has agreed to keep Dreyfus in solitary confinement twenty-four hours a day – no letters, no visitors, no lawyers. Nobody will know where he is, not even the commander of the Paris garrison. As far as the world is concerned, Captain Alfred Dreyfus will have vanished from the face of the earth.’
    Having delivered himself of this masterpiece, du Paty closed his file and sat back in his chair.
    I glanced around the table. Mercier and Boisdeffre were impassive, Gonse lighting a cigarette, Sandherr gripping the arms of his chair and shaking slightly, Henry watching him with concern, Cochefort with his arms folded and looking at the floor.
    Mercier said, ‘Does anyone have any questions?’
    I hesitated, and then tentatively I raised my hand. I never could resist the opportunity to goad du Paty whenever I had the chance.
    ‘Yes, Major . . . Picquart, is it?’
    ‘It is. Thank you, Minister. I wondered,’ I said, turning towards du Paty, ‘what happens if Dreyfus doesn’t confess?’
    Du Paty gave me a cold look. ‘He will confess. He has no choice.’
    ‘But if he doesn’t . . .?’
    ‘If he doesn’t,’ interrupted Sandherr, staring down the table at me and apparently trembling with emotion, ‘we have plenty of other evidence, apart from his handwriting, that