An Officer and a Spy

that case I believe Major Henry must have it.’
    ‘What makes you say that?’
    ‘Because when I took over the section, Colonel Sandherr told me that if I ever had any questions about the Dreyfus file, I should consult Henry. I took that to mean that Henry was the one who had retained custody of it.’
    ‘Well, obviously, if Colonel Sandherr said that . . .’ Gribelin’s voice trails off. Then he adds hopefully, ‘I wonder, Colonel – given that Henry is on leave – I wonder, wouldn’t it be better to wait until he returns . . .?’
    ‘Absolutely not. He won’t be back for several weeks and I need it right away.’ I pause, waiting for him to move. ‘Come along, Monsieur Gribelin.’ I hold out my arm to him. ‘I’m sure you have the keys to his office.’
    I sense he would like to lie. But that would mean disobeying a direct order from a superior. And that is an act of rebellion of which Gribelin, unlike Henry, is congenitally incapable. He says, ‘Well, I suppose we can check . . .’ He unlocks the bottom right-hand drawer of his desk and takes out his bunch of keys. Together we go downstairs.
    Henry’s office overlooks the rue de l’Université. The smell of the drains seems stronger in the unaired room. A large fly knocks itself dementedly against the grimy window. There is the usual War Ministry-issue desk, chair, safe, filing cabinet and thin square of brown carpet. The only personal touches are a carved wooden tobacco jar in the shape of a dog’s head on the desk, an elaborately hideous German regimental beer stein on the windowsill, and a photograph of Henry with some comrades in the uniform of the 2nd Zouaves in Hanoi: he was there at the same time as I was, although if we met I’ve forgotten it. Gribelin crouches to unlock the safe. He searches through the files. When he finds what he wants, he locks it again. As he straightens, his knees make a sound like snapping twigs. ‘Here you are, Colonel.’
    It appears to be the same manila envelope with the letter ‘D’ written in the corner that I handed to the president of the court martial twenty months earlier, except that the seal has been broken. I weigh it in my hand. I remember thinking how light it was when du Paty gave it to me originally; it feels the same. ‘This is all there is?’
    ‘That’s all. If you let me know when you’ve finished with it, I can lock it up again.’
    ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it from now on.’
    Back in my office I lay the envelope on my desk and contemplate it for a moment. Odd that such a dreary-looking object should assume such significance. Do I really want to do this? Once one has read a thing, there is no un-reading it. There could be consequences – legal and ethical – that I can’t even guess at.
    I lift the flap and pull out the contents. There are five documents.
    I start with a handwritten deposition from Henry, providing the context for his theatrical testimony at the court martial:
Gentlemen,
In June 1893, the Statistical Section came into possession of a note written by the German military attaché Colonel von Schwartzkoppen. This note showed that he was in receipt, via an unknown informant, of the plans of the fortifications at Toul, Reims, Langres and Neufchâteau.
In January 1894, another intercepted note revealed that he had paid this informant an advance of six hundred francs for the plans of Albertville, Briançon, Mézières and the new embankments on both sides of the Moselle and the Meurthe.
Two months later, in March 1894, an agent of the Sûreté, François Guénée, acting on our behalf, met the Spanish military attaché, the marquis de Val Carlos, a regular informant of the Statistical Section. Among other intelligence, the marquis warned M. Guénée of a German agent employed on the General Staff. His exact words were: ‘Be sure to tell Major Henry on my behalf (and he may repeat it to the colonel) that there is reason to intensify surveillance at the Ministry of War, since it emerges from my last conversation with the German attachés that they have an officer on the General Staff who is keeping them admirably well informed. Find him, Guénée: if I knew his name, I would tell you!’
I subsequently met the marquis de Val Carlos myself in June 1894. He told me that a French officer who worked specifically in the Second Department of the General Staff – or at any rate had worked there in March and April – had supplied information to the German