THE FRAME-UP

“SOMEWHERE IN FRANCE”

Marie Gessler, known as Marie Chaumontel, Jeanne d’Avrechy, the Countess d’Aurillac, was German.  Her father, who served through the Franco-Prussian War, was a German spy.  It was from her mother she learned to speak French sufficiently well to satisfy even an Academician and, among Parisians, to pass as one.  Both her parents were dead.  Before they departed, knowing they could leave their daughter nothing save their debts, they had had her trained as a nurse.  But when they were gone, Marie in the Berlin hospitals played politics, intrigued, indiscriminately misused the appealing, violet eyes.  There was a scandal; several scandals.  At the age of twenty-five she was dismissed from the Municipal Hospital, and as now—­save for the violet eyes—­she was without resources, as a compagnon de voyage with a German doctor she travelled to Monte Carlo.  There she abandoned the doctor for Henri Ravignac, a captain in the French Aviation Corps, who, when his leave ended, escorted her to Paris.

The duties of Captain Ravignac kept him in barracks near the aviation field, but Marie he established in his apartments on the Boulevard Haussmann.  One day he brought from the barracks a roll of blue-prints, and as he was locking them in a drawer, said:  “The Germans would pay through the nose for those!” The remark was indiscreet, but then Marie had told him she was French, and any one would have believed her.

The next morning the same spirit of adventure that had exiled her from the Berlin hospitals carried her with the blue-prints to the German embassy.  There, greatly shocked, they first wrote down her name and address, and then, indignant at her proposition, ordered her out.  But the day following a strange young German who was not at all indignant, but, on the contrary, quite charming, called upon Marie.  For the blue-prints he offered her a very large sum, and that same hour with them and Marie departed for Berlin.  Marie did not need the money.  Nor did the argument that she was serving her country greatly impress her.  It was rather that she loved intrigue.  And so she became a spy.

Henri Ravignac, the man she had robbed of the blue-prints, was tried by court martial.  The charge was treason, but Charles Ravignac, his younger brother, promised to prove that the guilty one was the girl, and to that end obtained leave of absence and spent much time and money.  At the trial he was able to show the record of Marie in Berlin and Monte Carlo; that she was the daughter of a German secret agent; that on the afternoon the prints disappeared Marie, with an agent of the German embassy, had left Paris for Berlin.  In consequence of this the charge of selling military secrets was altered to one of “gross neglect,” and Henri Ravignac was sentenced to two years in the military prison at Tours.  But he was of an ancient