CATCHING A SPY.

Sun (Christchurch), Volume V, Issue 1276, 15 March 1918, Page 7

CATCHING A SPY.

OLD LADY AS_DETECTIVE. CARRIER PIGEON TRICK. GUARD RECOGNISES LONGWANTED MAN. The best spy story in a long time comes from a medical officer, one of the big guns of his corps and profession (writes Roger Pocock in the “World”). It is all about the Aberdeen Express, one of the world’s quickest long-distance runs. You leave London after the theatre, go to bed in the train, have a cup of tea in bed at Edinburgh, and breakfast in Aberdeen, COO miles from town. Northward from Edinburgh there are stops a while on the Forth Bridge, and at Dundee and Montrose. The old lady boarded the train at Edinburgh, and the porter shoved her into a non-smoking compartment of the day coach. The other passenger was a foreign gentleman —of what nationality it would be hard to say, but foreign. As to the old lady, she seemed a harmless old thing some fifty-three years of age. The point is that one of the two was really a German spy, and any one’s first suspicion would point to the old lady. She owned up frankly that she enjoys a gossip, and found the foreign gentleman quite a good fellow. As to his nationality, the accent gave no clue. She pumped him perseveringly. A few miles out from Edinburgh the train stopped on the Forth Bridge. Getting Interested. The foreign gentleman stood up, filling the window, shutting out the view, and annoying the old lady, who also wanted to have a look. Moreover, she saw him go through a long fumbling procedure which puzzled her extremely. What on earth was he up to? The only thing she saw was the last swift movement which emptied the bulgy part of his overcoat. And she caught the glimpse of a wing. Now the whole thing was clear; there must mave been a message scribbled rapidly, folded and made fast, and then the sudden release of a carrier pigeon. And then the foreigner flashed round to see if the lady had noticed anything. No, evidently not. She looked vacant, nodding and half asleep. “I looked stupid,” she said afterward, “but that’s my specially.” She must have done some very swift thinking before he had time to turn around. Her first impulse was to run along the corridor and find the guard or rouse the first soldier she saw. But then the foreigner would see by her first movement that he was in danger, and she did not want to be strangled, thrown out of the window and drowned in the Forth estuary. That would never do. No, she became affable, wondered what had delayed the train so long. He expressed noble sentiments concerning the Allies and contempt for Germany. But as the train pulled into Dundee the old lady expressed her conviction that the morning papers would be for sale by this time at the bookstall. She felt that a little run on the platform would ease her limbs after the cramped compartment. She would buy a paper for the foreign gentleman also. He seemed content and consented to her request that he should see that nobody took her window seat in her absence. Half-way to the bookstall she met a porter. It would be natural to ask him how long the train stopped. Acquaints Authority. “Don’t be seen speaking,” she said, as she passed the porter. “There’s a spy in my carriage. Send the stationmaster to me at the bookstall.” When the stationmaster came behind her the lady spoke into an open newspaper just as though she were reading aloud. “Don’t be seen speaking to me,” she said. “There’s a spy in my carriage. The train stops at Montrose next, eh? Well, wire Montrose!” She paid for her bundle of papers and walked back to the carriage. If the spy had seen her speak to anybody he might attempt to escape along the corridor, or on to the railway track behind the train, or across the platform. Or he might jump from the train outside the station before it gathered speed. Worst of all for her, he might ha\'e confederates in the train. Yet he seemed unsuspicious, sitting where she had left him, much obliged for the newspapers. The plucky old lady sat opposite to her spy and entertained him until they reached Montrose. Then came to their compartment a British officer with an armed guard and a detective, who greeted the spy at once like a long-lost brother. “Why,” said he, “I’ve been searching for you for months.” The spy looked out through the window eastward, and saw an armed sentry waiting on the metals in case he attempted escape. Then he looked at the lady—the artful old lady—and sighed. Later the old lady received an official communication of warm congratulations on her patriotism, courage, and high intelligence, begging her to accept the enclosure, memento of a line deed done for her i country.