DANGEROUS MISSION

Manawatu Standard, Volume LVI, Issue 165, 13 June 1936, Page 7

DANGEROUS MISSION

BALFOUR’S NARROW ESCAPE,

A DETECTIVE’S WATCHFULNESS

During the world war the Earl of Bid four (then Mr Balfour) proceeded to America on a mission for the British Government. He was guarded by Ex-Detective Inspector Brust, of Scotland Yard, whose vigilance prevented a tragedy at the mansion occupied by Mr Balfour in Washington. In his hook, “1 Guarded Kings’' Mr Brust describes how Mr Balfour’s destruction was planned, the subsequent arrest and the third-degree methods used by the American police. Mr Brust says: A man presented himself at the outer approaches of the mansion and displayed a sealed letter for Mr Balfour. He was asked lor and gave the secret code word and counter-sign.

He gave his name as Captain Bolton of the British Embassy. He was ■ admitted to the mansion and asked permission to hand his letter personally to Mr Balfour. , The envelope carried the unmistakable seal of the British Embassy, but as he stood in the hall I had a curious premonition, an instinctive suspicion of the man and his object in coming here. There was a tremor of excitement about him. His eyes were just a tnlle too alert. . 1 I knew that I risked making a thorough fool of myself, but on the other hand, at the worst my precaution would only be put down as fussiness. Whereas if I counted my dignity as more important than the utmost precaution, then I would deserve all that came to me later. 1 went behind the man to seize him. It was the test of innocence or guilt. The instant he felt my arms close round him, he sprang into movement like a wounded tiger. He made a desperate effort to get free, but 1 held hin: firmly, and other detectives spiang to help. , “Search his pockets! I ordered, j “And carefully! Here—this outside I pocket!” I could feel a haul cylindrical-slmped object in his pocket. It proved to be a bomb filled with sufficient trinitrotoluol to have blown Mr Balfour, the mansion, the Mission, and the garrison outside sky-high. THIRD DEGREE ORDEAL. Mr Brust then describes the “Third Degree” ordeal “Captain Bolton” had to undeigo at the hands of the American police, stating that never in his wildest dreams did lie realise what a ghastly business it could be. Four grim-faced men towered over a cowering captive. “Come on, you skunk—cough it up!” growled the first.“Don’t try to pull wool over our eyes!” sneered the second, i- “D’ye hear? Spit it out!” snarled the third. And: “Will that help you to remember?” The fourth man, with a lightning blow, smashed his clenched llist against the victim’s mouth, bringing blood. It sounds like an "incident from a ganster film, doesn't it? Actually it was what I saw noth my own eyes when Bolton, the suspected German spy, was being interrogated by high officials of the American police. It was tile dreaded •‘Third Degree.” I had been invited to attend as a compliment. It was considered that as I was the , chief guardian of the visiting statesman it was necessary tor mo to see that the American j_phce did not neglect their duty. I could scarcely believe my eyes. In England, a suspected man or an arrest.ed man may be permitted to make a | voluntary statement, but lie is in--1 variably warned that what he may say —and sign—may be used in evidence at his trial. In American they did these things differently. It is not exactly the ease that the onus of proof of innocence rests with the arrested man, but the police are empowered to use tremendous latitude in extracting a “confession.” In this case the police were particularly exasperated because .they had experienced a long series of oifences obviously directed by German espion-: age agents. Now they had eaugnt a man whose speech, deportment, dress,! and the importance of the . job he had i undertaken all pointed to the fact that he wiis a chief agent of the Ger- j man Secret Service, and the enquiry was directed to finding out everytning possible about the ramifications ot enemy agents in America. R was a grim, ruthless ordeal. Harsh, bullying voices rapping out a ceasless fire of question and cross questions. The prisoner writhing, shrinking, sweating, replying in monosyllables or not at all. Threats. “Speak up, or ” Demands. ‘‘ Who ?*» by ?—What ? Where ? ” Then blows. Blood trickling from Bolton’s torn lips. Torture, mental and physical. I was sickened, nauseated. For an hour it went on, and at last I could stand no more. I drew the Police Chief on one side. “Look here,” I whispered, “1 don’t want to butt in, but I’m certain that Air Balfour wouldn’t stand for this treatment of the man. I can’t stand by and watch any longer. I’m going.” “Hell!” he exclaimed. “Can’t you see we’re doing our best for you? Can’t you see we’re trying to dig out tlie roots of this darned business ? \\ hat in heil do you expect? Expect me to bail him out and send him to the best hotel —to meet his pals?” “No,” 1 said, “but I simply can’t stand by and watch—that’s all. I am not here to interfere. ‘l’ll clear out.” “Wait a bit,” muttered the Chief. “It’s early yet for the other stuff, but if you’re squeamish, I’ll put the next stuff over quicker than I ought to!” 1 had not the slightest knowledge of what “the other stuff” might turn out to be, but I was so shocked by what I had seen that anything different would be a reliel. The Chief made a swift signal to another detective—there were twenty- 1 two of them in the room —and the man went. In a minute or two a telephone bell rang. One of the detectives answered it. The prisoner looked towards the instrument and for a moment all the bullying stopped. The detective who answered _ the telephone glanced towards the prisoner as though in surprise, then turned to the Chief. | •‘Yeah!” lie said into the telephone mouthpiece, “Sure he’s here, but—we]l_l think you’d better speak to the Chief!” i “What is it?” said the Chief. • i “I think you’d better speak,” re- 1 plied the detective. “It sounds mighty, serious to me.” . I The Police Chief took the rccciv--01 “Yeah? . . . . Yeah?” He looked ‘ at the prisoner and opened his eyes in surprise. “Waal, you don’t say! What? No! Say, that’s sure bud, that is. Bolton is the name we have. What? Green? Ellen Green?” I The prisoner started violently in his “Well, well, sure I will.” said the CJLiici'. “We’re human here all right!)

Sure. I’ll let him speak!”

He turned — “Let Bolton come here —there s some bad news for him. Come here, Bolton. In matters like this we’re all men. Come here, my son, and bear up. jCome on.” The prisoner staggered across to the telephone, took the receiver and listened a moment. “Yes,” I heard him sav. “Yes, 1 was know'll as Green in Chicago. ’Wliat. - ' Oh ! My God ! Don’t tell me she s dying! Oh! —” In litter misery ho dropped the receiver. . The Chief took it again, spoke into “Don’t you worry. Tell her that her husband will be right along as quick as a fast car can bring him ! He turned to the prisoner. “Say, Bolton or Green or whatever vour name ’ is, I’m darned sorry to learn this. Did you get the facts? Your woman has been run down by an automobile and is in the hospital calling out like hell for you. Well, 1 guess I’m not the man to stand between a fellow and his dying wile. No, sir ! Not me ! Now do you want to get right along?” “Yes, yes! For God’s sake let me go!” cried Bolton, distraught. “I’m not going to stop you, said the Chief indulgently. “Your wife’s dying and wants you. Who am I to step in there? Now then, Bolton. When it comes to issues like this what do politics matter? What do crimes matter? Surely your wife is more to you than the' German Secret Service isn’t she?” “Oh, God, yes!—” “Very well. Vou just tell us what we want to know —and straight you go to vour poor wife!” . A few moments of hesitation. Them the prisoner made a statement, three shorthand w'riters took it down m a “Can I go now?” quavered the man. “Not until' we’re checked this, was the reply. • , •, “It’s true enough, I sweai itpleaded the. prisoner. “Only let me S “Aso soon as it is checked,” repeated tho Chief. , The prisoner was led back to the C ° “Have vou the power to let him go like that?” I asked, in my innocence. A roar of laughter went up from tho him’lSf'lAe Ml «, Iff exclaimed the Chief. “Tlmtfs the telephone stuff, that is, and it. looks as though it ( has proved a winner th As Ca it 6 happened, the prisoner had told tho truth, and important ariests were made. But there was no more chance of his being released than thue was of his flying through the bars m his cell. Some quick a'ld smart enpuries about him had elicited the tact tint lie was married and used tne name of Green. The bluff succeeded. The prisoner was too worn physic. Ld mentally to he .He t<, e.t.mato j.t, p rllSo at its real worth, the ponco found out that he was P<™" tcl >; in love with Ins wife and tiaded that to put over then successiui "It may be that the motto of “The children with a truncheon MENTAL RECItEAIJUN. ; ( might mention that during * t I'Kconvpvpfl mv august chaig^» Philosophic Doubt,” ‘‘Theism and Humanism,” “Criticism and Beauty ■iml “The Foundations or Bene > being notes Introductry to the Study Of Theology,”-I supposed him be immersed in some thought ul the type which he wrote h mselt.. j Imagine my surprise W” hv cover of the book—a thiillei 3 ,’Rii ?”:«««»,.„t, ami look"■rti'Atfw in “ThSad k'tmmar a mpactfu. detectiv{ , stories” he remarked, tapping the book. diverting and sometimes highly amus incr You are a detective. V bat do you tlnnk of these, tales ? , “111 mv opinion, I said, 1 . rarelv true to life — “Ah, !mt does it matter? countered. “After all, they serve their pmpose.”