An Officer and a Spy

understanding, he said gravely, that there had been an earlier inquiry into a suspected traitor on the General Staff, even before the investigation into Dreyfus began in October. If true, he regretted that this fact had been withheld from the court. He suggested that the matter should be cleared up right away. Colonel Maurel agreed, and told the clerk to recall Major Henry. A few minutes later, Henry appeared, apparently embarrassed and buttoning his tunic, as if he had been dragged from a bar. I made a note of the time: 2.35.
    Demange could have objected to Henry’s recall. But Henry was putting on such a virtuoso performance of being a reluctant witness – standing bareheaded before the judges, fidgeting nervously with his cap – he must have gambled that whatever was coming might work to Dreyfus’s advantage.
    ‘Major Henry,’ said Maurel severely, ‘the court has received information that your evidence yesterday was less than frank, and that you neglected to tell us about an earlier inquiry you made into the existence of a spy on the General Staff. Is that correct?’
    Henry mumbled, ‘It is true, Monsieur President.’
    ‘Speak up, Major! We can’t hear you!’
    ‘Yes, it’s true,’ replied Henry, loudly. He glanced along the row of judges with a look of defiant apology. ‘I wished to avoid revealing any more secret information than was necessary.’
    ‘Tell us the truth now, if you please.’
    Henry sighed and stroked his hand through his hair. ‘Very well,’ he said. ‘If the court insists. It was in March of this year. An honourable person – a very honourable person – informed us that there was a traitor on the General Staff, passing secrets to a foreign power. In June he repeated his warning to me personally, and this time he was more specific.’ Henry paused.
    ‘Go on, Major.’
    ‘He said the traitor was in the Second Department.’ Henry turned to Dreyfus and pointed at him. ‘The traitor is that man!’
    The accusation detonated in that little room like a grenade. Dreyfus, hitherto so calm he had seemed scarcely human, jumped up to protest at this ambush. His pale face was livid with anger. ‘Monsieur President, I demand to know the name of this informer!’
    Maurel banged his gavel. ‘The accused will sit!’
    Demange grabbed the back of his client’s tunic and tried to tug him down into his seat. ‘Leave it to me, Captain,’ I heard him whisper. ‘That’s what you’re paying me for.’ Unwillingly, Dreyfus sat. Demange rose and said, ‘Monsieur President, this is hearsay evidence – an outrage to justice. The defence absolutely demands that this informant be called so that he can be cross-examined. Otherwise, none of what has just been said has any legal weight whatsoever. Major Henry, at the very least you must tell us this man’s name.’
    Henry looked at him with contempt. ‘It’s obvious you know nothing about intelligence, Mâitre Demange!’ He waved his cap at him. ‘There are some secrets an officer carries in his head that even his cap isn’t allowed to know!’
    That brought Dreyfus to his feet again – ‘This is outrageous!’ – and once again Maurel gavelled for order.
    ‘Major Henry,’ said Maurel, ‘we will not demand the name, but do you affirm on your honour that the treasonous officer referred to was Captain Dreyfus?’
    Henry slowly raised a fat and stubby forefinger and pointed to the picture of Christ above the judges’ heads. In a voice as fervent as a priest’s he proclaimed: ‘I swear it!’
    I described the exchange to Mercier that evening.
    He said, ‘You make it sound highly dramatic.’
    ‘I think one may safely say that if Major Henry ever leaves the army, the Comédie-Française will stand ready to receive him.’
    ‘But will his evidence have the desired effect?’
    ‘In terms of theatre it was first class. Whether it carries much weight legally is another question.’
    The minister sat back low in his chair and made a steeple of his fingers. He brooded. ‘Who are the witnesses tomorrow?’
    ‘In the morning, the handwriting expert, Bertillon; in the afternoon, the defence is producing witnesses to Dreyfus’s good character.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Family friends – a businessman, a doctor, the Chief Rabbi of Paris—’
    ‘Oh, good God!’ cried Mercier. It was the first time I had seen him display emotion. ‘How absurd is this? Do you imagine the Germans would permit such a circus? The Kaiser would simply have a