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Although the revelations which have been made already in the British House of Commons have thrown some light on the international intrigues which complicated the progress of the Cuban War, the tragic event which caused the United States to draw the sword against Spain has remained a profound mystery to the present hour.

The truth concerning the destruction of the United States warship Maine, in the roadstead of Havana, is known fully to only two persons now alive. One of these two has taken the vow of perpetual silence in the monastery of La Trappe, and his name is already forgotten by the world.

I shall cause some surprise, perhaps, when I venture to assert that had I left my hotel ten minutes earlier on a certain memorable night in the year 1898, the Spanish flag might still be flying over the citadel of Havana.

The extraordinary adventure which I am going to relate had its starting-point in Paris, which is, to a large extent, the clearing-house of international politics—the diplomatic exchange where the representatives of the Powers meet, and sound each other’s minds. For this reason the highest post in the diplomatic service of every country is still the Paris Embassy, although France itself scarcely ranks to-day as a Power of the first magnitude.

It is Paris, as every one is aware, which was the scene of the long negotiation between the representatives of the Cuban insurgents and the Government of Madrid on the question of the terms to be granted by Spain to her discontented colony. In this negotiation it is equally well known that the Cuban delegates received the moral support of the United States; but it is not generally known that the Spanish Government acted throughout in consultation with most of the European Powers.

I was looking on at the negotiation without any very great interest, sharing, as I did, in the general impression that Spain would give way before long, when I was surprised one morning by receiving a visit from a very remarkable character.

Ludwig Kehler was a Bavarian, who had begun life as a candidate for the priesthood. A disgraceful affair, the particulars of which I had never learned, had caused his dismissal from the seminary, and, after drifting about the world for a time, and mixing in very shady company, he suddenly appeared in Berlin in the character of a police agent.

The exact nature of the services which he rendered to the police was a mystery, but I had formed the theory that he was employed as a spy on the German Catholics, whose attachment to the House of Hohenzollern has always been suspected in Berlin.

The presence of this man in Paris was in itself an unusual event. It did not occur to me to connect it with the Spanish-American question, and that for a very simple reason. Germany is the one country in Europe which has never possessed a foot of soil in the New World. Spain, Portugal, England, France, and even Holland and Denmark have planted their flags across the Atlantic, but the German Michael has been content to remain at home while his neighbours were colonising the globe.

I received Kehler coldly. My acquaintance with him was a purely professional one, and he was a man whom I profoundly distrusted.

As soon as I could do so, without positive rudeness, I invited him to explain the object of his visit.

‘It is of a confidential nature,’ prefaced the Bavarian. ‘May I assure myself that our conversation will remain a secret between us two?’

I bowed gravely.

‘That is always understood, where I am concerned. A man who desires to be trusted must begin by establishing a reputation for secrecy.’

Kehler contented himself with this assurance, dry as it was.

‘I thank you, Monsieur V——. Your reputation is so well established that I had no intention except to ask whether you were willing to receive the proposals I have come to make?’

‘Proceed, Herr Kehler, if you will be so good.’

‘You have learnt, no doubt, that the Spanish Government has made up its mind to concede the terms demanded on behalf of the Cubans by the United States?’

Although I was not aware that things had reached this point, I did not allow Kehler to see that he had given me any information.

‘By this act,’ he continued, ‘the Americans have, in fact, declared that no European Power has any right to enter their hemisphere without their permission.’

‘All that is well known, Herr Kehler.’

‘The question then arises whether the European Powers will allow themselves to be driven out, one by one, or whether, by a bold combination, they will reduce the United States to some respect for the law of nations.’

‘Such a combination would be inopportune at this moment, because the British would stand aloof.’

‘Because they look upon the struggle as one between Spaniard and Cuban,’ Kehler rejoined quickly. ‘But let us suppose there to be a war, in which the United States was engaged against Spain?’

‘You have just said there will be no such war.’

‘A war is always possible, provided those interested in bringing it about are not too scrupulous.’

This sinister language at length convinced me that the Bavarian had not come to see me for nothing. I decided to draw him out.

‘Provided such a war actually commenced, I agree that some combination on behalf of Spain might be possible,’ I murmured, as though reviewing the situation in my mind. ‘But where is the Government sufficiently in earnest to undertake so terrible a responsibility?’

‘It is that Government,’ Kehler responded, ‘which sees its subjects departing in greater numbers every year, but which looks around in vain for some unoccupied region towards which to direct the stream of emigration.’

‘You mean Germany?’

‘We look around us,’ he continued, scarcely noticing my interruption, ‘and we see all the continents staked out in advance by other Powers: Asia by England and Russia, Africa by England and France, North America by England and the United States, Australia by England alone. There remains only South America, in the possession of weak Latin races, unable to make use of their advantages, but who are protected in their decay by the bullies of Washington.’

‘A war in which the United States found itself fully occupied would be a fine opportunity for the German Michael to plant his standard in Brazil or the Argentine, I understand.’

Kehler looked at me earnestly.

‘The man who undertook the task of making such a war inevitable, without compromising exalted personages, would be no loser,’ he remarked significantly.

I looked back at the Bavarian before demanding—

‘Have you any definite scheme to put before me?’

‘Until I know that you accept,’ he demurred.

‘I do not know that you are accredited,’ I reminded him.

‘What authority do you require?’

‘The Imperial autograph simply.’

‘Impossible.’

‘I am accustomed to be trusted by my employers,’ I returned decidedly. ‘I cannot act under any other conditions.’

‘That is final?’

‘It is final.’

‘Then I am afraid I can only ask you to forget that I have occupied so much of your time.’

I allowed Kehler to rise and take his departure without making the least sign. The moment he was out of hearing I sprang to the telephone and rang up the agent of the Sugar Trust.

Herr Kehler’s refusal to produce the guarantee for which I asked convinced me that he contemplated some action of a character doubtful, to say the least, if not criminal.

It would have been useless for me to communicate my suspicions to the American Minister in Paris. The diplomacy of the United States, blunt and self-reliant, takes little account of the subterranean intrigue which pervades European politics. But the Government of Washington was not the only factor concerned. As Europe is beginning to learn, the Union is a federation, not so much of those geographical divisions which are painted in different colours on the map, and called States, but of those vast organisations of capital which control the American electoral system, and fill the Senate with their delegates. Nebraska, Pennsylvania, Virginia, Illinois—these are merely names for school children; the Silver Ring, the Steel Trust, the Cotton Trust, the Pork Trust—such are the true American Powers.

During the whole of the Cuban negotiation the Sugar and Tobacco Trusts had been represented in Paris by agents whose object it was to avert an annexation of Cuba by the United States, an act which would, of course, mean the free admission of Cuban sugar and tobacco into the markets. Adonijah B. Stearine, the Sugar Agent, was a shrewd man, and I had no doubt I should find him a ready listener to what I had to say.

Within an hour of Kehler’s departure, Mr. Stearine was seated in my office. I had to pick my words carefully not to break the promise of secrecy into which I had been beguiled.

‘I have just seen a secret agent who wanted me to help him in some trick to force on a war between the States and Spain.’

Stearine rolled his eyes and whistled thoughtfully.

‘Who sent him?’

‘I can’t say. He refused to disclose his principal, and so I would have nothing to do with him.’

The Sugar Agent pursed up his lips, and frowned.

‘I guess this is a dodge of Bugg’s,’ he muttered.

‘What Bugg?’

‘You don’t say you haven’t heard of Bugg—Milk W. Bugg, the Pork Trust’s man over here? I reckon Bugg is the smartest man in Chicago, and Chicago is the smartest town in the States, and the States is the smartest country on earth; so there you are.’

‘The man who came to me is a German,’ I hinted.

‘Bugg’s smartness,’ was the comment.

‘He wanted me to think he came from Berlin.’

‘Bugg is real smart,’ breathed Mr. Stearine with admiration.

It was evident that the agent of the Sugar Trust was unable to see past the figure of his rival, which filled up his mental horizon. I did not consider it worth while to argue the point.

‘The question is, Do you want this to be stopped?’ I said.

Stearine looked at me with something like surprise.

‘Think you can?’ he questioned briefly.

‘I know the man who is at work. I can shadow him and find out what he is doing.’

‘You will have to be almighty quick about it,’ retorted the other. ‘When did this man get away!’

‘Only an hour ago,’

Mr. Stearine gazed at me with a disconcerting scrutiny. Then he remarked slowly and emphatically—

‘If this is Bugg’s game, and you have given him an hour’s start, I calculate he will be opening a store in Havana this day six months.’

The Pork Trust, it was clear, had everything to gain by a war by which the Sugar Trust had everything to lose. But, in spite of Mr. Stearine’s confident assurances, I continued to have my own opinion about the power behind Herr Kehler.

‘Do you want me to act?’ I demanded briefly.

‘I want you to take a hand—yes.’ The Sugar Agent took out his pocket-book, and counted out bills to the amount of ten thousand dollars. ‘You can play up to that,’ he added, ‘and then you can let me know how the game stands. I guess I shall buy Pork Consols.’

With this discouraging observation, Stearine left.

It did not take me long to decide on my plans. As it was not likely that Kehler was apprehensive of being watched, it would be an easy task to trace him, and I at once gave orders to my staff to that effect, with the result that I learned in a few hours that the Bavarian had put up at the Hotel des Deux Aigles, and was leaving by the Sud Express for Madrid.

I now decided on one of the boldest and most effective strokes in my repertory. I went openly to the station, took my own ticket, and entered the compartment of the sleeping-car in which Kehler had booked his own place.

The real astonishment of the Bavarian at seeing me I met with an affectation of moderate surprise on my own part.

‘So you are going with me?’ I observed.

‘With you!’ Kehler exclaimed.

‘It appears so. No doubt you have been instructed?’

Kehler denied it energetically.

‘But you refused to participate in a certain design,’ he reminded me.

‘I laid down certain conditions, which you declined to fulfil, but which have since been complied with by your principal.’

The Bavarian was thunderstruck. I relied upon his having reported his failure to whomever it was that had sent him to me; and there was nothing impossible in the suggestion that I had in consequence been approached directly.

‘You have credentials, I suppose?’ he asked.

I nodded carelessly.

‘You will convince me, perhaps?’ he persisted.

‘Are you authorised to convince me?’ was my retort.

‘You know it—no.’

I shrugged my shoulders and remained silent.

So commenced the most extraordinary journey I have ever taken, a journey which was destined to end only at Havana. Across France and Spain and the Atlantic Ocean we travelled side by side, each unwilling to lose sight of the other; I, resolved to find out and if possible thwart the designs of my companion; Kehler, unable to determine whether I was an opponent, a rival, or a spy set over him by those on whose behalf he was engaged.

On the frontier, at Hendaye, a despatch was handed in to me through the carriage window. It was from Stearine, and contained these words, whose terrible significance I was designed to learn later—

‘United States warship Maine arrived harbour Havana.’

The agent of the Sugar Trust had been too careful to say more. But it was clear that he regarded this event as a move in the game played by the great exporting Trusts.

From the moment of our arrival in Madrid I was no longer able to keep a close watch on Kehler, though by a sort of tacit agreement we stayed at the same hotel. I found out that he was paying visits to the Provincials of the Jesuit and Franciscan Orders, and had been admitted as a visitor to one or two convents, and for a time I was tempted to relax my suspicions, and to think that the Bavarian was engaged in some Catholic espionage. These doubts were suddenly dissipated by my meeting him one day in the courtyard of the hotel attired in the habit of a priest—the dress of which he had been deprived on account of his youthful misconduct.

I could not doubt that this dress was a mere disguise, and that it had been assumed for a political purpose. I went up to him and whispered—

‘Do we still recognise each other, or do you prefer that we meet as strangers?’

‘As fellow-travellers simply, I should prefer,’ he responded.

The next day he had disappeared from the hotel. I set the agencies at my command to work, and learned without much difficulty that passages had been reserved for the false priest and a Sister of Mercy travelling under his protection, on board a Spanish steamer sailing from Cadiz to Havana.

Needless to add, I was on board the same steamer when she quitted her moorings and breasted the waves of the open sea. During the voyage I had many opportunities of watching Kehler and his companion, who were constantly together, holding long private conversations in retired corners of the vessel. The nun, who was presented to me as Sister Marie-Joseph, was a pale, delicate-looking girl of about twenty, with that abstracted look in her eyes which betokens a mind wavering between earnestness and hallucination.

Dimly, and through clouds of uncertainty, I began to perceive that Kehler had ransacked the convents of Madrid for a suitable instrument, and that he was hard at work hypnotising the unfortunate girl’s mind, so as to prepare it for any suggestion he might have to make.

Before we reached Cuba I contrived to speak to the Sister apart. I found her reserved and distrustful of a heretic, as she had evidently been told to consider me. On my satisfying her that I had been brought up a Catholic, she became slightly more communicative, and revealed a disposition singularly sincere and devoted, but almost morbid in its detestation of Protestantism. She betrayed a feeling of horror at the idea of American domination in the Catholic island of Cuba, and it was in vain that I represented to her the generous tolerance accorded to our religion in the United States.

I did not dare to ask her the subject of her conferences with Kehler. To have hinted at the Bavarian’s true character would have been simply to forfeit her confidence in myself. I decided to reserve my efforts in this direction until our arrival in Havana, where I did not doubt that I should be able to find some responsible ecclesiastic who would undertake the investigation of Kehler’s antecedents.

In the meantime I could only wait and watch. I was painfully impressed by the steady growth of the false priest’s influence over his victim, who seemed at last to respond to his least word or gesture. I had before me the spectacle of a possible Teresa or Elizabeth being gradually transformed into a Ravaillac by the dexterous touches of a rascally police agent.

As soon as we entered the harbour Kehler and his companion got ready to disembark. I noticed that at this moment they were separated, the Sister going ashore by herself with a large basket trunk, while her protector followed at some distance behind.

They met again at the hotel, to which I had accompanied the man. By this time I had forced a certain degree of acquaintance on the couple, though I was unable to interrupt the intimacy of their private intercourse. I arranged to secure a room next to that of the Sister, and I observed with some surprise that Herr Kehler was lodged in another wing of the building.

By a coincidence we found the hotel full of naval officers from the Maine, who had chosen it for their headquarters while on shore. Instead of disconcerting Kehler, this circumstance appeared to give him every satisfaction.

He went out of his way to show civility to the Americans, and rapidly became intimate with several of them. Sister Marie-Joseph, on the other hand, held sullenly aloof, scarcely able to repress some signs of the abhorrence which the sight of the heretics inspired.

The visit of the Maine was understood to be a pacific one. It was a demonstration to the world that the relations between the United States and Spain continued to be those of perfect friendship, and that the former Power was inspired by peaceful motives in seeking to bring about an understanding between the belligerent Cubans and the mother-country.

Nevertheless it was an imprudent act to send a man-of-war, flying the Stars and Stripes, into the harbour of a place swarming with fanatical Spaniards, furious at the interference of another Power between them and their revolted subjects. It was, in fact, a provocation, and it was not surprising that the astute agent of the Sugar Trust had seen in this proceeding the work of those commercial powers whose interest lay in the direction of a rupture.

Faithful to my preconceived intention, I took an early opportunity of waiting upon a high Church functionary in the city, to warn him of the true character of the Bavarian.

The reception I met with was a cold one, however. Monsignor X—— allowed me to see that he considered me an officious person.

‘May I ask what is your interest in all this?’ he demanded, as soon as I had made my statement.

‘I represent the Sugar Trust,’ I told him.

‘The Sugar Trust?’

‘The manufacturers of sugar in the United States, who fear the competition of cane sugar, and are therefore opposed to the annexation of Cuba, which would involve free trade with the island,’ I explained.

“‘We shall find out whether he is a priest,’ was the retort.”

‘And you suggest that this Father Kehler——?’

‘Herr Kehler,’ I corrected. ‘This man is no more a priest than I am. He is believed to be the agent of a Chicago Trust, which desires to see Cuba brought within the Union.’

‘We shall find out whether he is a priest,’ was the retort. ‘Before he can say Mass in this diocese he will have to apply for permission, and to show his ordination papers.’

‘But if he does not wish to say Mass? If he merely confines himself to directing the Sister whom he has conducted here?’

‘In that case we cannot interfere. We have no more proof that she is a Sister than that he is a priest?’

I gave Monsignor X—— an indignant look, which he bore with coolness.

‘Besides, what is it that you apprehend?’ he asked. ‘One cannot deal with imaginary dangers.’

‘I am sure that these two persons are bent on some desperate enterprise—that their presence in Havana bodes no good to the cause of peace,’ was all I could find to say.

The ecclesiastic made a scornful gesture.

‘It appears to me that this is a matter which concerns the police,’ he said, in a tone which signified that the interview was at an end.

I returned to my quarters, realising to the full the difficulty of any effective action. To go to the police would be merely to invite a repetition of the snub which I had just received from the ecclesiastical authority. I could only rely on my own resources.

I sent a wire to Stearine: ‘War agent here as priest, accompanied by nun,’ and waited. It was just possible that Stearine might have connections through which those who had power in the Church at Havana might be influenced, in which case I had no doubt that Monsignor X—— would very quickly become interested in the doings of ‘Father’ Kehler.

I can hardly tell what it was precisely that I expected to happen. I had some idea of an assassination, possibly of the captain of the Maine, or perhaps of the American Consul, by Sister Marie-Joseph.

Day by day I perceived the unhappy girl becoming more and more wrought up to the pitch of enthusiasm necessary for the perpetration of some hideous deed, like that of Charlotte Corday, or Judith. Curiously enough, the poor Sister showed an inclination for my society, perhaps because I was a familiar face. She would sit beside me in the drawing-room of the hotel and talk about her convent, in which she had been educated and passed most of her life.

“She would talk about her convent.”

I learned that she was of a noble family, rendered poor by the ravages committed in the course of the Cuban insurrection, a fact which may have helped to exasperate her spirit. But I sought in vain to draw her into any confidences on the subject of her mission to Havana. The moment I touched on that topic she became dumb, and made an excuse to leave me.

During the next few days I observed the intimacy between Kehler and the American officers becoming closer. The German could speak English fluently, and this circumstance naturally recommended him as a companion in a place where Spanish and French are almost the only languages known to the inhabitants. There was a young lieutenant, or sub-lieutenant, in particular, who was constantly in Kehler’s company, viewing the sights of the town, or smoking with him on the hotel verandah. Suspecting that my man had some object in cultivating this lieutenant, I endeavoured to make his acquaintance myself, only to find my advances rebuffed in a manner which showed me plainly that Kehler had been at work disparaging me beforehand.

One day as I was standing on the verandah I noticed the pair come out of the hotel together, and turn in the direction of the harbour. I followed at a discreet distance, and saw the officer conduct Kehler into a boat, manned by sailors from the Maine, in which they pulled off to the ship. I stood watching, and at the end of about an hour I saw them coming back, the face of the false priest wearing a serious expression.

I took advantage of my acquaintance with him to meet the pair as they landed, and accost them carelessly.

‘You have been to have a look over the ship?’ I threw out.

Kehler tried to pass on with a careless nod, but the lieutenant, less discreet, drew himself up with a severe glance at me.

‘Father Kehler has been good enough to visit a poor sailor who is lying sick on board,’ he said, in a tone evidently meant to rebuke my impertinence.

I bowed with assumed respect. But as they went on their way I experienced a sensation of alarm. The pretext which had imposed on the officer was transparent enough as far as I was concerned. I realised that Kehler was steadily pursuing some well-thought-out design, and that he had contrived this visit to the man-of-war with some dark purpose which it was my business to discover.

I determined at length, since Kehler’s friend was so strongly prejudiced, to seek out some other officer, preferably the commander, and take him into my full confidence. Unhappily events marched too swiftly for me. That very evening it was already too late.

“‘Father Kehler has been good enough to visit a poor sailor who is lying sick on board,’ he said, in a tone evidently meant to rebuke my impertinence.”

Passing through the entrance hall on my way upstairs to dress for dinner, I was struck by the sight of the basket-trunk belonging to Sister Marie-Joseph standing strapped-up, ready to go away. At the foot of the staircase I encountered the Sister herself, evidently prepared for departure.

She appeared pleased to have the opportunity of bidding me farewell.

‘I shall not forget you where I am going,’ she said with a mournful smile, as she extended her hand.

‘May one inquire where that will be?’ I ventured to ask.

She shook her head.

‘It is an affair of duty. I am going a very long way, and you will never see me again.’

‘And Father Kehler,’ I forced myself to say, ‘does he accompany you?’

A momentary expression of repugnance, almost of loathing, flashed out on her pale face.

‘No, no! The padre has done his part in conducting me so far, and finding me the situation of which I was in search. I have parted with him now, and we have nothing more to do with one another.’

This answer relieved my mind of a burden. I came hastily to the conclusion that Kehler, finding himself able to carry out his projects without assistance, had decided to dispense with an embarrassing ally, and I was glad to think that this poor girl would be delivered from his evil influence.

What blindness are we capable of towards those very things which seem the clearest to our after-recollections!

I took the precaution to ascertain at the bureau that Kehler was still staying on in the hotel, and I came down to dinner with a light heart.

A number of the American officers were dining in the hotel that night. There appeared to be a sort of entertainment going forward, in which some Spanish officers from the garrison were fraternising with them.

Kehler, deprived of the company of his lieutenant, sat at a small table by himself, and I noticed that he was drinking heavily, while his flushed face and inflamed eyes showed him to be labouring with an excitement which I ascribed to the influence of the wine.

I sat down at another table, and busied myself with efforts to disentangle the threads of the intrigue which was being woven around me. I cast a thought or two after the poor girl, with whom I had been so strangely associated.

Absorbed in these thoughts, I did not mark the evening advancing, when I was gradually aroused by the breaking up of the military party. The lieutenant, who had shown so strong a dislike for me, rose from his seat and came my way, taking a Spanish officer by the arm.

As they approached, I perceived from his gait that the American had been affected by the healths he had been drinking. I saw him point me out to his companion as they approached, and he muttered something in the other’s ear, which caused the Spaniard to turn on me a glance of grave disgust.

Stung by this insufferable insolence, I sprang to my feet, and placed myself in front of the lieutenant.

‘Have you anything to say to me, sir?’ I said sternly.

‘Nothing. I do not talk with spies,’ was the coarse retort.

‘But you take them on board the ship it is your duty to guard,’ I returned fiercely, carried out of myself.

The lieutenant drew back, amazed.

‘I have taken a worthy priest to console a dying man—one of his own faith,’ he stammered out.

‘A German police agent, disguised as a priest, I suppose you mean. The spy Kehler?’

He began to tremble violently. ‘But the Sister! The nurse!’

‘Sister Marie-Joseph! What do you mean?’

‘She is on board now, nursing O’Callaghan.’

It was my turn to utter an oath of consternation.

‘Come with me. Take me on board instantly, or take me to your commander.’

‘We will go on board,’ said the sobered lieutenant.

Glancing round as I followed him out I saw that Kehler had disappeared. Quickening our steps by a common instinct, the lieutenant and I almost ran down to the water’s edge.

‘Thank God!’ burst from his lips as we came in sight of the majestic vessel lying peacefully at her anchors in the calm waters of the bay, her spars and turrets outlined against the clear, starlit sky, and only a few twinkling lights betraying the presence of the two hundred men who slept below her decks. The same instant there was a spout of fire, a cloud of wreck and dust mounted to heaven, and a thunderous boom stunned our ears, and sent the waters of the bay dashing up at our feet.

The Maine had broken like a bubble. I saw all in a flash—in some dark way that will never now be revealed Sister Marie-Joseph had blown up the Maine. Kehler had succeeded—I had failed.

It has not been easy for me to write the story of what I regard as the greatest failure of my career. My mistake was the initial one of refusing to purchase Kehler’s confidences, by the expedient of pledging myself to assist his enterprise.

Immediately the intelligence of the disaster reached Europe Stearine sent me a cable peremptorily enjoining silence. That injunction I consider has now lost its force through three circumstances, the lapse of time, the death in action of Lieutenant ——, and the living suicide of the arch-criminal, haunted by the horror of his own deed, in the deathlike cloisters of La Trappe.