An Officer and a Spy

demonstrates his guilt.’
    I decided not to press it further. I nodded. ‘Thank you.’
    A long pause followed.
    ‘Anyone else?’ asked Mercier, the eye slits sweeping past each of us in turn. ‘No? Chief? No? In that case, gentlemen, you are authorised to proceed with the plan, as outlined by Colonel du Paty, at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.’
    And with that he signed the arrest warrant and tossed it down the table towards du Paty.
    The next day was the most perfect crystalline autumn morning one could ever wish for – cool, with a clear sky and a promise of warmth to come, the early sun already starting to part the layers of mist draped across the Seine.
    When I arrived at the ministry soon after eight, I found du Paty in the main lobby, in a state of high nervous excitement, marshalling his troops. Three were in civilian dress – Cochefort and his deputy, and a cadaverous clerk whom I took to be Gribelin, even though we were not introduced. Henry and I were both in uniform. Henry looked bemused, and at one point, as du Paty outlined for the second or third time what he wanted us to do, he caught my eye and gave me the tremor of a wink.
    ‘So, Picquart, make sure you arrive with Dreyfus at the Chief of Staff’s office on the stroke of nine,’ were du Paty’s parting words to me. ‘Not a minute either side, understood? I want this thing to go off like clockwork!’
    Du Paty and the others disappeared upstairs and I settled down on one of the green leather benches to wait. I had a commanding view of the courtyard leading to the rue Saint-Dominique. I pretended to read a newspaper. The minutes dragged by. The whole of the army seemed to pass before me – doddery and white-whiskered old generals, gallant colonels of dragoons flushed by the cold after an early morning canter in the Bois de Boulogne, keen-faced young captains carrying stacks of files for their masters – and then suddenly, in the midst of this parade, came Dreyfus: incongruous, hesitant, frowning, already looking like an outcast, shorn of his uniform, wearing an immaculate black frock coat, striped trousers and a bowler hat. He might have been a stockbroker. I glanced at my watch and cursed. He was fifteen minutes early.
    I folded my newspaper and rose as he came through the door. Obviously he was taken aback to meet me. He touched his bowler in salute.
    ‘Major Picquart, good morning.’ And then, glancing around the crowded lobby, he added, ‘I fear some of the fellows may be playing a joke on me. I had a telegram on Saturday, supposedly from General Boisdeffre’s office, telling me to report for a staff review wearing civilian clothes, but nobody else seems to have received it.’
    ‘That sounds odd,’ I said. ‘May I see?’
    Dreyfus pulled the telegram out of his pocket book and handed it over: Summons. The Division General, Chief of the Army General Staff, will conduct an inspection of the officers on duty with the Staff during the day of Monday 15 October. M. Captain Dreyfus, currently with the 39th Regiment of the Infantry in Paris, is invited to be present on that date at 9 a.m., in the office of the Chief of the Army General. Civilian dress . . .
    I pretended to read it through carefully. I was playing for time. ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Come to my office. Let’s get to the bottom of this.’
    ‘No, Major, please don’t concern yourself with it . . .’
    ‘Nonsense, I insist.’
    ‘I don’t want to put you to any inconvenience . . .’
    ‘Really, I have plenty of time.’
    It seemed an endless walk to the Third Department, during which I could think of nothing to utter except banalities about the weather and his family. ‘And how is your wife?’
    ‘She’s very well, thank you, Major.’
    ‘And do you have children? I’m sorry, I can’t remember.’
    ‘Yes, Major – two.’
    ‘What sort?’
    ‘A boy and a girl.’
    ‘And how old are they?’
    ‘Pierre is three and Jeanne is one and a half . . .’
    And so on and so forth. It was a relief when we reached my door. ‘Why don’t you wait in here,’ I said, ‘while I check what’s going on.’
    ‘Thank you, Major.’
    He went inside and I closed the door. I checked my watch again. Ten to nine. For several minutes I paced up and down the corridor like a sentry, repeatedly glancing at my closed door, willing the time to pass, wondering if perhaps he had climbed out of the window and shinned down the drainpipe, or was at that