by Nick Barratt
In view of a personal report from Mr Hunter [Herbert Hunter, the operative now in charge of surveillance] that Oldham had informed him last night (5 September1933) that he had received a telephone call that morning from Paris on important exchange business, it was decided that Captain Booth should be asked to trace the call, if possible, and also to enquire as to the feasibility of imposing a telephone check on Jules hotel for any telephone calls coming from abroad.
I subsequently spoke to Captain Booth over the telephone and he is making the necessary inquiries. For the present, Mr Hunter is keeping Oldham under periodic observation.326
Despite the level of surveillance in place, it seemed that a few basic errors had been made. For example, intercepts had been placed on incoming post and telegrams, but it had occurred to no-one that outgoing mail either from the hotel or the neighbouring area should be monitored. After a quick investigation into the practicalities, Watson reported back:
Result of enquiries made of GPO as to whether there is a posting box at Jules hotel, as had there been one there cleared regularly by a postman, a scrutiny of outgoing letters might have been of considerable assistance in this case, especially with a view to ascertaining whether Oldham sent a receipt of any sort after receiving the two £10 notes from Paris, which have arrived at intervals of exactly seven days.
The closest pillar-box to the hotel appears to be near St James’s Church, Jermyn Street and, in view of the fact that there is a collection at hourly, and sometimes at even half-hourly intervals, it seems evident that the amount of correspondence is very considerable and that any attempt to make a scrutiny of letters posted there would be hopeless unless Oldham was seen to post a letter at any particular time, when, providing arrangements can be made with the post office, it might be possible for a special clearance to be made.327
More disheartening news was to follow.
Dear Watson
Re: your telephone enquiry today concerning telephone message to Jules hotel on the 5 September. Enquiries have been made and it has been established that no telephone message from Paris (in France) was received yesterday at the hotel.
Re: the question of a ‘check’ on this hotel for telephone calls made from Paris. There are six lines to this hotel (Whitehall 1471) and this means that six different operators will have to be employed at the same time (one on each of the lines) for each eight hours daily. Apart from the difficulty of relieving so many of the staff for the work it is pointed out that the conversation might possibly be in French and that there is no one at the Exchange who has the necessary qualifications to translate the ‘calls’.
JB Booth328
The inadequacies of the surveillance operation underline the difficulties that MI5 faced during this period – the rapid pace of technological change, and the sheer lack of manpower, had rendered impossible any attempts to throw a comprehensive communications blanket over Oldham in the hope of gaining an insight into his collaborators abroad. The fact that none of the potential phone operators could speak French simply compounded the problem.
Nevertheless, Watson persevered:
It was subsequently arranged that a note should be made of any continental calls going to, or coming from, Jules hotel. Captain Booth said that, if necessary, the post office could ask Paris where the calls emanated from, but we decided against doing this in view of the risk of arousing suspicion.329
This was a critical mistake, as it meant that all that could be collated was a frequency log rather than any meaningful leads to pass to SIS operatives abroad, who would be better placed to pick up the line of inquiry. Quite what sort of suspicion might be aroused, and by whom, is not specified. The error was emphasised by the fact that the telephone service reported two incoming calls either from Paris or via Paris to Jules Hotel on 14 September at 2.51 pm and 3.26 pm. Booth was only able to report this to Watson two weeks afterwards on 28 September, far too late to act upon the information.
It seems that the call involved further requests by Oldham for money, because on 16 September a letter containing two £5 notes was sent from Interlaken to the Jules Hotel and was intercepted on its arrival on 19 September. As far as Oldham was concerned, the money arrived in the nick of time; the following day, a letter was sent from Credit Lyonnais stating that they had to refuse payment of his cheque for £3 to Hood, the landlord of the Chequers pub, because Oldham’s account was already overdrawn.
In a report dated 21 September, Hunter painted an increasingly pitiful picture of Oldham’s state of affairs as his money gradually ran out.
This man is still living at Jules hotel and there is no indication of him leaving.
Most of his time, when away from the hotel, he spends at the Chequers public house, Duke Street, and he is invariably there from 6.30 pm to the closing hour at 11.00 pm, and I have, on several occasions, been in his company.
While formerly, his drinks were usually spirits and the more expensive beers, he now consumes bitter and I am of the opinion he is getting short of cash. Last week, Hood, the landlord with whom he has got very friendly, cashed for him a cheque which was drawn on the Credit Lyonnais.
Last evening he was a good deal more rational than when I previously saw him. I understand that Hood gave him the hint to go slow on spirits.
Apart from breakfast, he now has no meals at Jules but gets snacks at the pub.
He appears to have no associates other than persons with whom he has become acquainted in the Chequers, among whom are certain female servants from adjoining flats, an artist named Shenaton (or similar name), whom I have never seen other than in a state of helpless intoxication, and various antique dealers in the street who use the house.
Oldham tells everyone he has to remain in Jules hotel for business reasons till about 5.00 pm and receives a number of telephone calls from the continent relating to ‘international currency’, regarding which he has to give quick decisions.
When in drink he becomes talkative. He has told me of journeys he made to the continent (when connected with the ‘communicating’ branch) with the late Earls Cozen and Grey, and, on one occasion, mentioned one Jesser-Davis, a King’s Messenger, with whom he apparently was frequently working.330
Earl Grey, as noted earlier, was Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs between 1905 and 1916 when Oldham was first transferred to the Foreign Office; Earl Curzon acted in a similar capacity after the war from 1919 until 1924. These are bold claims but not outside the bounds of possibility, given Oldham’s presence at League of Nations council meetings and associated conferences as part of the supporting team that accompanied the Foreign Secretary on such occasions.
Charles Edward Jesser-Davis is also quite interesting. Notes on him were transferred to a separate secret service file, PF 112 939, which intriguingly does not appear to have survived. Jesser-Davis enjoyed a distinguished military career, rising from lieutenant to acting captain in the Rifle Corps during the World War I, where he earned the 1914–15 Star service medal, and he was twice mentioned in despatches in 1917. On his return to civilian life, Jesser-Davis was appointed as a temporary clerk in July 1920 before receiving his civil service certificate and subsequent appointment as King’s Foreign Service Messenger in November 1921. He made frequent visits around Europe, including many of the routes that Oldham travelled. He was still in post when Oldham was appointed staff officer in 1928, so the two men would have indeed known each other well.
He boasts of his friendship with Mr Harry Preston of Brighton, at whose hotel he frequently stayed with his wife. He often refers to his house in Kensington and explains his non-residence there to its being in the hands of the decorators and his wife being abroad with their son, who has just completed his education at Bonn university.
Each night, on leaving the Chequers, he visits Grays, the chemists, of Duke Street, where Jock (a local character), the assistant, has ready for him a concoction for sleeplessness. He usually leaves Jock a bottle of beer.331
Indeed, Hunter expressed real concern
s for Oldham’s health and ended his report with the words, ‘In my opinion, Oldham is heading for a breakdown’.
Two days later, there was a sudden flurry of calls from the continent. According to Watson:
Mr Kelly (GPO) telephoned to say that a telephone message was received at Jules hotel from Paris at 2.57 pm on Saturday 23 September 1933, the conversation lasting for seven minutes. At 9.17 am today [25 September], someone at Jules hotel put through a call for Biarritz 580.
GPO suggest that possibly the incoming call on Saturday originated at Biarritz, being routed through Paris, and that today’s call was in answer to it.332
It is not known whether Oldham had anything to do with these calls. The following day, Watson was alerted to more activity.
At 10.08 am today, someone at Jules hotel telephoned to Paris, Interspecial 1420. That is the telephone number of the Banque Belge Pour l’Étranger, Rue de Bourse.333
Again, no connection could be made between the call and Oldham.
On Thursday 28 September, Oldham disappeared from surveillance. A report was filed by Hunter on 30 September, having made further attempts to re-establish contact with Oldham.
Last evening, I called at Chequers public house and learned that the above had not been there since Wednesday 27th inst. He had previously been in the house each evening. Attached cutting may explain his absence.334
The cutting was a clipped article taken from the Star the previous day:
A KENSINGTON MYSTERY
Unknown Man Dead in Gas-Filled Empty Kitchen
The Kensington police are trying to discover the identity of a man, aged about 35, who was found dead in a gas-filled kitchen at a house in Pembroke Gardens, Kensington.
Apart from a table, there was no furniture in the house, but in a cupboard were a number of suits of clothes, including evening dress.
The man was 5 feet 6 inches in height, well-built, clean-shaven and had dark brown hair and eyes. He was wearing a brown mixture suit and a brown striped shirt, with collar and tie to match. The shirt bore the initials ‘EHO’.
It is believed that the man formerly lived at the address.
The report from Hunter continued:
I have since ascertained that the deceased referred to is Oldham and that he was in monetary difficulties. He owes money to Hood, landlord of the Chequers, to Jules, the Savoy Turkish baths and various restaurants. On the Monday prior to his death, he is said to have received a letter from Geneva, the contents of which appeared to upset him. He is stated to have been taking in large quantities a drug called feraldehide (?).335
This was almost certainly paraldehyde, a rather nasty remedy for alcohol withdrawal symptoms such as delirium tremens. Its side effects included hallucinations, trembling, slow heartbeat, nausea, confusion, troubled breathing and very bad breath. Prolonged use could lead to addiction, with organ damage often manifesting through a yellowing of the eyes and skin. Profuse sweating was not unknown, symptoms perhaps displayed back in July when Oldham had attempted to break into the Foreign Office for the last time.
Hunter’s despatch to MI5, coupled with further newspaper clippings that appeared over the following days in the News Chronicle and The Times, as well as information from the OGPU files, provide enough information to speculate on the chain of events that led to Oldham’s death.
At some point after 20 September, it seems that he was preparing to travel abroad once more to meet with Bystrolyotov. According to Bystrolyotov’s biographer Draitser’s interpretation of events, this was ‘to deliver a list of British secret service operatives posted abroad. Whether he collected the information or not is unclear today. But he seemingly intended to take some sensitive information across the British border.’336
During this period, Lucy – who was apparently still in contact with her friend ‘Perelly’ – informed the Soviets about information she herself had received from Kemp (who was trying to find her some employment) that ‘Oldham had sent a porter from the Jules Hotel to the Foreign Office with his passport and a note asking Kemp to indulge him as a friend and mark up his passport, raising it to the status of a diplomatic courier passport; the holder of such a passport was not subject to border crossing disclosures’.337 Kemp refused and retained the document, sending a message back to Oldham via the porter that he should come and pick it up himself. If this was indeed the case, Kemp did not reveal this information to either his superiors in the Foreign Office or MI5 – no doubt playing the amateur detective once more in the hope of claiming the glory himself for bringing Oldham to justice. This was a costly error.
Doubtless spooked by the loss of his passport and unsure about how next to proceed, it is plausible that Oldham tried to communicate his dire situation to a Soviet agent via the phone call from Biarritz via Paris on Saturday 23 September. Two days later he received the letter from Geneva. Although this was not intercepted by MI5 – another slip by the security services – nor was it found with his personal possessions either in the hotel or at 31 Pembroke Gardens, it is safe to conclude that it was sent by Bystrolyotov, as Geneva was one of his favoured operational bases. Perhaps frustrated by Oldham’s continual failure to send over the material he had promised, or suspecting that the ‘lost passport’ was just another excuse, we can speculate that Bystrolyotov made good his earlier promise to cut Oldham off financially and indeed went further, with the threat of exposing Oldham’s activities to the British authorities unless he complied with his instructions to travel to the continent – something, of course, Oldham could no longer do. This would explain the call placed to Biarritz in response to the letter from Geneva.
With his only source of income cut off, his passport seized by the Foreign Office, and faced with mounting debts at the Jules Hotel that he could not pay, Oldham gathered together his meagre possessions and returned to the only refuge he had available to him – his empty family home. There he was doubtless surrounded by memories of happier times before his wife abandoned him and his career slipped away through the neck of a bottle. Contemplating the real possibility of prosecution as a traitor should the Soviets make good their threats to expose him, Oldham sealed the kitchen, turned on the coal gas fire, lay down on the floor, and waited for his life to ebb away.
He nearly failed to carry out this final act successfully. A police sergeant, alerted by neighbours to unexpected activity in the shuttered house as well as the smell of gas, was called to investigate. On seeing Oldham lying on the floor near the gas stove, clothed in his dressing gown, the officer smashed a window and entered the property. Oldham was still showing faint signs of life so the sergeant called for medical assistance. An ambulance was summoned and Oldham was bundled into the back. He expired before he reached hospital, pronounced dead ‘on the way’ outside 28 Marloes Road, a few streets from his former home.
No good spy story is complete without a conspiracy theory and in Oldham’s case it is provided by a cryptic comment from Bystrolyotov’s memoirs. Referring to Oldham’s death, he states that ‘our wonderful source failed and was killed by us’.338 There is no evidence to support the interpretation that direct action was taken to eliminate Oldham. Instead, it may simply relate to a degree of remorse or guilt felt by Bystrolyotov over the contents of the Geneva letter that triggered Oldham’s decision to take his own life. No trace of foul play was noted by the British authorities, although rather bizarrely the OGPU Centre itself suspected that Oldham had been murdered – by the British.
In order to avoid a scandal the [British] intelligence service had ARNO physically eliminated, making his death appear to be suicide339.
A subsequent newspaper clipping placed in Oldham’s file, again from the Star on 2 October 1933, carried an account of the post mortem and coroner’s inquest into his death.
DEAD IN EMPTY HOUSE
‘Drink More Disease Than Vice’, Says Coroner
The downfall of an ex-civil servant through drink and drugs was described at a Paddington inquest today on Ernest Holloway Oldham, aged 46
, who was found gassed in an empty, shuttered house at Pebroke[sic]-gardens, Kensington, where he had formerly lived with his wife.
Mrs Lucy Oldham, the widow, said that her husband was dismissed from his employment through drunkenness. He had been taking drugs and drinking heavily. Two months ago he left her without means. Since then his house had been empty and she had not seen him.
A police sergeant said that he went to the house in Pebroke[sic]-gardens and entered after smashing a window, finding the man lying near a gas stove.
The man was wearing a dressing gown and he had only 5½d and a bunch of keys in his pockets.
Mr Oddie, the coroner, said that drink was probably more a disease than a vice in this case.
He recorded a verdict of suicide while of unsound mind.340
Oldham’s age was indeed recorded as 46 years on the official death certificate, which was issued on the same day as the coroner’s inquest. No doubt he looked to be heading towards his 50s, given the prolonged effects of alcohol and drugs on his body; nevertheless, in reality Oldham was still a year away from his 40th birthday.
Attending the coroner’s inquest was Oldham’s sister, Marjorie Holloway Barratt and her husband, George Bernard Barratt. They were forced to make the difficult decision to leave their eldest son Michael at home unattended, facing the traffic along Wolves Lane as he walked to the isolation hospital to check on his brother’s state of health.
On 3 October, the surveillance operation on Oldham was terminated via a terse, two-line note from Watson. The phone intercepts on the deserted 31 Pembroke Gardens ceased.
