An Officer and a Spy

moment rifling through my desk for secrets. At last, at two minutes to the hour, I went in to fetch him. He was sitting on the edge of a chair with his bowler hat on his knees. The papers on my desk were undisturbed. It didn’t look as if he’d moved a centimetre.
    ‘Your telegram is quite correct,’ I said brightly. ‘There is an inspection.’
    ‘What a relief!’ exclaimed Dreyfus, getting to his feet. ‘I really thought some of the fellows were playing a joke on me – they sometimes do, you know.’
    ‘I need to see the general myself. I’ll walk over with you.’
    Off we set again.
    Dreyfus said, ‘I hope I get the opportunity to have a word with General Boisdeffre. We had a really good talk about artillery formations in the summer. There are one or two additional points that have occurred to me since.’ I made no reply. Then he said, ‘You don’t happen to know how long this inspection is likely to take, do you, Major?’
    ‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
    ‘The thing is, I told my wife I’d be home for lunch. Well, it doesn’t matter.’
    We had reached the wide, high-ceilinged passage leading to the office of the Chief of the General Staff.
    Dreyfus said, ‘I say, it’s awfully quiet, isn’t it? Where is everyone?’
    The double doors were up ahead. His pace was slowing. I willed him to complete the distance.
    I said, ‘I think they must all be inside waiting for you.’ I placed my hand in the small of his back and gently pressed him forward.
    We reached the door. I opened it. He turned to me, puzzled. ‘Aren’t you coming in as well, Major?’
    ‘I’m sorry. I just remembered something I have to do. Goodbye.’
    I turned on my heel and walked away. Behind me I heard the click of a lock, and when I looked back the door was closed and Dreyfus was gone.
    ‘Tell me,’ I say to Gribelin, ‘what exactly happened that morning after I delivered Dreyfus to you and Colonel du Paty?’
    ‘I don’t understand what you mean, Colonel.’
    ‘You were there to act as a witness?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Well, what was it you witnessed?’ The archivist stares at me as I pull out a chair. ‘Forgive all these questions, Monsieur Gribelin. I’m simply trying to fill in the gaps in my knowledge. It is a continuing case, after all.’ I indicate the chair opposite. ‘Sit down with me for a moment.’
    ‘If that is what you want, Colonel.’ Without taking his eyes off me, as if he suspects I might make a sudden lunge at him, Gribelin lowers his bony frame into the seat. ‘What do you want to know?’
    I light a cigarette, and make a great show of pulling the ashtray towards me. ‘We wouldn’t want a stray spark up here!’ I say with a smile, shaking out the match and placing it carefully in the ashtray. ‘So Dreyfus comes through the door, and then what?’
    It is as difficult as pulling teeth, but gradually I extract the story from him: how Dreyfus walked in, looked around and asked where General Boisdeffre was; how du Paty replied that he had been delayed, invited Dreyfus to sit down, indicated his gloved hand, and enquired if he wouldn’t mind taking down a letter for him as he had sprained his wrist; how Dreyfus did as he was asked, watched by Cochefort and his assistant, and by Gribelin who was sitting opposite him.
    ‘He must have started to get nervous,’ I suggest. ‘He must have wondered what was happening.’
    ‘He did, most definitely. You can see it in his handwriting. I can show you, in fact.’ Gribelin goes once again to his filing cabinet and returns with a bulging folder, several centimetres thick. He opens it. ‘The first item is the actual document Dreyfus wrote down at Colonel du Paty’s dictation.’ He pushes the file over to me. ‘You can see how his writing changes halfway through, as he realises he’s been trapped and tries to disguise it.’
    It starts like an ordinary letter: Paris, 15 October 1894. Having the most serious reasons, sir, for temporarily retaking possession of the documents I had passed on to you before taking off on manoeuvres . . .
    I say, ‘I don’t see any change halfway through . . .’
    ‘Yes, there is, it’s obvious. Here.’ Gribelin leans across and taps the letter. He sounds exasperated. ‘Exactly here, where the colonel made him write the hydraulic brake of the 120 millimetre cannon – that was when he understood what was happening. You can see the way his writing suddenly gets larger and less regular.’
    I look again. I