that made him a general favorite. He had won an enviable record for bravery in battle, and was considered an efficient officer in every sense of the term.
Presently the time came when it was desirable to learn something concerning the secrets of the Russian army plans. Austria, like all other great countries in Europe, had any number of spies, but very few of them were available for the character of work which would be necessary in order to learn the plans of the higher military officers of the Russian Empire. It was in this emergency that Colonel Riddle was called upon. He had a young soldier’s love of adventure and he eagerly volunteered for the delicate and difficult task. He was well supplied with money and authority and eventually he went to St. Petersburg, where he posed as a sort of military attaché of the Austrian embassy. The social side of life in St. Petersburg attracted him immensely and while he devoted part of his time to the work for which he had been assigned, he nevertheless found numerous opportunities for satisfying his love for the pleasant things of life.
Indeed, so genial did he find his surroundings, that he had little or no desire to return home. He became very popular with the ladies of the Russian Court, and participated in many of the social events for which that capital was noted.
But everything has its end, and finally the day came when it was deemed necessary for him to return to Vienna. He reached Austria in due time and made a comprehensive report of his discoveries, a report that was considered acceptable by the higher officers of the Austrian army. After that he retired to his home in Prague, Bohemia. He had many friends there and indulged in what was regarded as a well earned rest. His activities—his military activities—were suspended for the time being, and this high grade spy enjoyed life with more zest than is granted to the ordinary or commonplace person.
But suddenly and as unexpectedly as a bolt from the blue sky came the report that Colonel Riddle was suspected of treason to his country.
He was summoned to Vienna to defend himself from the charges. Now whether they were true or not never has been and never will be definitely determined. At all events the military and social circles of the gayest capital in the world were filled with stories which were not creditable to the fascinating and really popular colonel. These stories, it may be stated with surety, lost nothing in the telling, and as they went from mouth to mouth they assumed proportions which represented Riddle as being one of the most marvelous deceivers of his time.
In the meanwhile the talk took on a new twist. It was contended that if Colonel Riddle lived to be prosecuted for treason the revelations at his trial would make it impossible for Austria to maintain friendly relations with Russia. The gossip said more than that; it said that not only relations with Russia would be broken, but that the bonds between Austria and one of her fully trusted allies would be severely strained. As a matter of fact, there is no telling to what extent Germany and Austria might have found reason to suspect each other had Colonel Riddle gone on the stand and made the revelations which would have been necessary in order for him to defend himself on the charge of treason. He was accused by unknown accusers of not only giving military secrets of Austria and Germany to Russia, but also of having betrayed to Russia the Russian officers who were selling Russia’s military secrets to Austria and Germany. Those who were acquainted with the man were vehement in denying his guilt of any such double faced dealings. At all events, one of the secrets of this talk was that Austria and Germany very materially revised their plans for mobilizing their forces along the Russian frontier.
In the meantime, while Colonel Riddle was in Vienna preparing for the court-martial, the Government had its agents in Bohemia collecting evidence to be used against the accused man. Two of the secret service men who were in Prague burst into his room for the purpose of securing any information that might be obtained there. At first it looked as if they were to have their labors for their pains. Nothing out of the ordinary was found. It was a sort of apartment that might be expected to belong to a comparatively wealthy and popular young man. There were trophies from all parts of the world; souvenirs of his stay at St. Petersburg—this, it must be remembered, was before the days that the capital of Russia assumed the unfamiliar name of Petrograd—and other interesting places. There were numerous private letters, some of them tender love missives. But at the last moment the secret service men discovered a private desk in a corner of the room which, when broken open, disclosed a number of papers of an incriminating character. It was positively declared at the time that if certain of these papers ever became public nothing could prevent a war between Austria and Russia.
And here another curious twist is introduced in this strangest of strange stories. It was asserted in a way that gave it the appearance of verity that some of the papers, had they come to light, would have ruptured, if not entirely broken, the relations between Austria and Germany. Even at that time these two countries were looked upon as the Siamese twins among the nations of Europe. The Austrian authorities were seriously alarmed. They could not contemplate a struggle between their own country and their German ally with equanimity. The question was what to do under these critical circumstances. One of the first things was to take charge of all of the possessions of the unfortunate man. Everything was seized—not only the official papers, but private letters, tailors’ bills, photographs, and all other articles that were found in the room. Not only were the papers seized and sequestered, but his apartments were sealed, thus concluding the first act in the tragic drama.
But the most serious part of the business was still to come. The papers were out of the way; there was no documentary evidence in the case, but the man still remained, and what he might do or say was the unknown quantity in the problem. The strangest part of the queer affair was that in spite of all of these charges and counter charges against the fascinating colonel he was still looked upon as a most patriotic person. It was assumed—and probably with correctness—that while he had been indiscreet and possibly blameworthy, he never really intended to betray his own country. Anyhow the cold facts remained. It was a condition and not a theory which confronted those in authority. The court-martial had been ordered. It was fixed for a certain day. If it took place according to schedule it might strike the spark which would cause a terrific explosion in Europe. If it were postponed, how could the postponement be explained? And even if it were, there would still remain the man who had been indiscreet and who might be again.
It was at this stage of events that Colonel Riddle, who was kept in strict confinement, received a call from two of his fellow officers. They smoked and chatted, and even had a glass of wine together. All of the facts were placed before him in an orderly manner. He was shown that he could not escape under any circumstances and that if he should live, the life of the empire might be threatened. It was the existence of one or the other. He was told, as he knew very well, that any attempt to defend himself would place Austria in the position of having attempted to steal the military secrets of Russia, and further, of being faithless to Germany. Finally, about midnight, they parted, and as the officers left the room one of them with a significant gesture handed Colonel Riddle a loaded pistol.
The next morning when the guard made his regular rounds his eyes met a shocking sight. Colonel Riddle lay prostrate on the floor with a bullet wound in his forehead. The pistol with which the deed was committed lay by his side.
There was much regret, of course. The highest officials of the Austrian Court were heard to express sorrow at the untimely taking off of the popular young officer. His high standing, his unusual ability and his bright prospects for the future only made the tragedy the sadder.
A five line cablegram told the story to America. It is doubtful if one person in a thousand either read it or paid any attention to it. It was simply reported as the suicide of a soldier who was about to be placed on trial for treason. What could be more natural than that a man in the face of impending disgrace—especially when he had been a trusted officer—should take his life? Such things had happened before. Why should it excite any comment?
In the early part of the following month there were whispers concerning the real facts that lay behind the curious story of Colonel Riddle’s suicide. These facts came to light
