This fact was not lost on the lesser lights of the camp at Koermoend. The chief-of-staff of the Archduke conceived that one who was so highly regarded by his superior was entitled to special attention at his hand. So he invited him to be his guest during his brief stay at the headquarters of the Archduke. Schulmeister—to give him his old name for the moment—accepted cheerfully, but reminded his host that he was a very busy man and that he might be compelled at any moment to leave him abruptly and without notice. This was the solemn truth, but, of course, the humor of it was lost on the chief-of-staff.
Now the General had his headquarters in a roomy frame building not far from that of the Archduke. His office was in a large apartment on the first floor. Here he kept all of his papers and military correspondence. Monsieur de Meinau—to get back to his formal designation—made note of all this and was quick to see where the soldier placed the keys of the place. For some days now he followed a policy of watchful waiting. He was a persistent man, but also a patient one. He felt sure that his opportunity would come—and it did.
One morning the Archduke decided to make an inspection of his troops. This was an all-day job and he was naturally accompanied by his chief-of-staff. When they were out of sight and hearing the spy began his operations. He had access to the house, but the desk containing the coveted papers was locked. By rare good—or bad—fortune, the General had left his bunch of keys on a hook behind the door. Monsieur de Meinau possessed himself of them and opened the desk of the absent soldier. To his delight he found a mass of most important correspondence.
He tiptoed over to the door and locked it securely. After that he pulled down the blinds and started in to read the papers. It consumed several hours and at the end of that time he had discovered many things which he felt sure were important to Napoleon. The question now was whether to steal the papers or copy them. He finally decided on the latter course. There were two reasons for this. The first was that he could accomplish his purpose without exciting any suspicion and the second that the chief-of-staff, for whom he had come to hold a certain regard, would be held blameless.
He went at his work with a will. He used a cipher of his own which was a sort of shorthand, and long before the sun went down he had filled his memorandum books with most valuable information. Just as he finished there came a loud rapping at the door. He was startled, but not seriously disturbed. He concealed his notebook, locked the desk, placed the keys where he had found them, and then hastily undressed. A couch was in the corner of the room, and he threw himself on it. In the meantime the knocking had become more pronounced. He arose and opened the door, presenting a sleepy and dishevelled appearance to the man at the door. It proved to be, as he had expected, the chief-of-staff, returned from his tour of inspection. Monsieur de Meinau was all apologies.
“I am so sorry to have kept you waiting,” he murmured, “but I was tired and I am a heavy sleeper.”
The General was graciousness itself.
“No excuses are necessary,” he insisted. “I regret having disturbed you. Please lie down again and take the rest I know you must need so badly.”
After that speech it might be supposed that Monsieur de Meinau would relent. But not so. He had other uses for his victim. He had supper with him and late that night asked for a safe conduct to Vienna.
“I have to go after some information and it is too late to go to the Archduke. I am sure he would give it to me but I dislike disturbing him. Perhaps it is too much to ask from you?”