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Authors: Barry Grant
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against the Triple Alliance of Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy. Thus the stage was set for war. All the props were in place. All the actors were dressed up in soldiersâ uniforms and waiting in the wings, ready to unleash death on a scale never before witnessed in this world.
Many people tried to prevent the conflict. The three people best placed to do this were Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, King George V of England, and Czar Nicholas II of Russia. The first two, George and Wilhelm, were grandchildren of Queen Victoria, which made them first cousins. Nicholas was married to one of Victoriaâs grandchildren, which made him a sort of first cousin by marriage. The assassination of Ferdinand took place on June 28th. During the month of July few people seriously believed that war would break out. But great forces were gathering, and the three cousins sensed that a juggernaut may have been set in motion. Telegrams flew back and forth between them. They had been children and young men together, and they often signed themselves Nicky, Willy and Georgie when they wrote to each other. But all this flurry of telegraphic conversation between the cousins was to no avail. Britain followed its allies and declared war on August 4th, 1914.
Now, if you recall my own history, as transcribed by my old friend Watson, you will know that in 1912 I had come out of retirement to track down a German spy named Von Bork. The task took two years. On August 2nd, 1914, I finally collared Von Bork and, with the help of my friend Watson, trussed him like a turkey, loaded him into a motorcar and carried him off to Scotland Yard.
I immediately returned to Sussex, intending to resume my quiet life of retirement. But scarcely had I arrived home when Britain declared war. Soon I began to chafe that I was no longer able to help the cause of England. I was a man of sixty, but I was perfectly fit in both body and mind. I wondered how I might make shift to assist my country in this terrible moment. The answer was not long in coming. A messenger rode up my cottage lane one morning, leant his bicycle against the low wall, and handed me a letter from our King. It was dated from Buckingham Palace and was signed by the King himself. Prime Minister Asquith had visited me in my cottage two years earlier, imploring my assistance on the Von Bork case. Now the King was requesting that I come to Buckingham Palace to discuss âa matter of grave national importance.â
I travelled to London the following day and was met at London Bridge Station by a representative from Buckingham Palace, a portly gentleman who introduced himself as Earnest Hobbes. Hobbes escorted me to a motorcar driven by an intense young gentleman who had a scar on his cheek and never spoke. This young chauffeur bowed punctiliously after the German manner. âI observe,â I said, âthat you have attended Heidelberg University, where I once visited Professor Grundauer. Do you know him?â To my surprise, the chauffeur looked almost frightened. He bowed again, took my valise and set it in the boot. He lunged into the driverâs seat and drove us to Claridges Hotel in Brook Street, where my room had been arranged.
The following day a carriage and four arrived to carry me to the palace. October 20th it was, a crisp autumn day, a Tuesday. Purple clouds tumbled through the sky like little icebergs, and red leaves tumbled across roads, and ladies held on to their hats. The driver took the broad streets through Grosvenor Square over to Park Lane and south to Piccadilly, then into Constitution Hill and so to Buckingham Palace. I entered the Palace and a gentleman took my coat. Another gentleman led me upstairs to the White Drawing Room. He led me to the far left-hand corner of the room, straight to a cabinet surmounted by a massive mirror. He touched something and the cabinet and mirror swung open intact, giving us direct access to The Royal Closet. The time was precisely two
Many people tried to prevent the conflict. The three people best placed to do this were Kaiser Wilhelm II of Germany, King George V of England, and Czar Nicholas II of Russia. The first two, George and Wilhelm, were grandchildren of Queen Victoria, which made them first cousins. Nicholas was married to one of Victoriaâs grandchildren, which made him a sort of first cousin by marriage. The assassination of Ferdinand took place on June 28th. During the month of July few people seriously believed that war would break out. But great forces were gathering, and the three cousins sensed that a juggernaut may have been set in motion. Telegrams flew back and forth between them. They had been children and young men together, and they often signed themselves Nicky, Willy and Georgie when they wrote to each other. But all this flurry of telegraphic conversation between the cousins was to no avail. Britain followed its allies and declared war on August 4th, 1914.
Now, if you recall my own history, as transcribed by my old friend Watson, you will know that in 1912 I had come out of retirement to track down a German spy named Von Bork. The task took two years. On August 2nd, 1914, I finally collared Von Bork and, with the help of my friend Watson, trussed him like a turkey, loaded him into a motorcar and carried him off to Scotland Yard.
I immediately returned to Sussex, intending to resume my quiet life of retirement. But scarcely had I arrived home when Britain declared war. Soon I began to chafe that I was no longer able to help the cause of England. I was a man of sixty, but I was perfectly fit in both body and mind. I wondered how I might make shift to assist my country in this terrible moment. The answer was not long in coming. A messenger rode up my cottage lane one morning, leant his bicycle against the low wall, and handed me a letter from our King. It was dated from Buckingham Palace and was signed by the King himself. Prime Minister Asquith had visited me in my cottage two years earlier, imploring my assistance on the Von Bork case. Now the King was requesting that I come to Buckingham Palace to discuss âa matter of grave national importance.â
I travelled to London the following day and was met at London Bridge Station by a representative from Buckingham Palace, a portly gentleman who introduced himself as Earnest Hobbes. Hobbes escorted me to a motorcar driven by an intense young gentleman who had a scar on his cheek and never spoke. This young chauffeur bowed punctiliously after the German manner. âI observe,â I said, âthat you have attended Heidelberg University, where I once visited Professor Grundauer. Do you know him?â To my surprise, the chauffeur looked almost frightened. He bowed again, took my valise and set it in the boot. He lunged into the driverâs seat and drove us to Claridges Hotel in Brook Street, where my room had been arranged.
The following day a carriage and four arrived to carry me to the palace. October 20th it was, a crisp autumn day, a Tuesday. Purple clouds tumbled through the sky like little icebergs, and red leaves tumbled across roads, and ladies held on to their hats. The driver took the broad streets through Grosvenor Square over to Park Lane and south to Piccadilly, then into Constitution Hill and so to Buckingham Palace. I entered the Palace and a gentleman took my coat. Another gentleman led me upstairs to the White Drawing Room. He led me to the far left-hand corner of the room, straight to a cabinet surmounted by a massive mirror. He touched something and the cabinet and mirror swung open intact, giving us direct access to The Royal Closet. The time was precisely two
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