Hardcastle's Traitors

by Graham Ison

  ‘Gosh!’ said Walter again, and shook hands with his father.

  Alice had used up almost the whole of the week’s ration to provide a magnificent meal, and Hardcastle produced a bottle of Rioja that had set him back a shilling, with which to round off the evening.

  The next morning, Hardcastle decided that he would, after all, charge Henwood with furnishing a false character reference, and with obstructing police in the execution of their duty.

  The Bow Street magistrate listened carefully to Hardcastle’s evidence, pursed his lips and pronounced a verdict of guilty. He frowned when Hardcastle gave details of Henwood’s previous conviction.

  ‘Have you anything to say?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m very sorry, sir.’ Henwood did his best to appear apathetic. ‘But I was only defending my master.’

  ‘I was considering a custodial sentence,’ the magistrate began, staring fixedly at the ex-butler. ‘However, I am informed that it is the army’s intention to conscript you with immediate effect and that, in my view, will be punishment enough. You are remanded to await a military escort.’

  It was three weeks after Quinn had interviewed Sinclair Villiers and Irma Glatzer that they, together with Captain Haydn Villiers, were arraigned before a general court martial at the Tower of London held in camera before Major General the Lord Cheylesmore.

  Hardcastle, there at Quinn’s invitation, but only as an interested spectator, was amazed when Sinclair Villiers was escorted into the courtroom. Gone was the arrogant Chelsea resident. Three weeks confinement in Brixton prison had turned him into a shuffling, round-shouldered, broken man. He had lost weight and his clothes hung on him as though they had been tailored for someone much stockier. His hair, once slicked flat with pomade, was now longer and comparatively unkempt.

  By contrast, Irma Glatzer wore a grey tweed costume with a flared jacket and a skirt the hem of which was at least six inches from the ground. Glacé-kid court shoes and art silk stockings completed the picture of a well-dressed woman, and gave the impression of a wealthy socialite rather than a German spy.

  Captain Haydn Villiers was in uniform, but deprived of cap, sword and Sam Browne, the military bearing had vanished, and his face had taken on a greyish hue.

  The indictment against all three defendants was that of committing a felony under Section One of the Official Secrets Act 1911: communicating information of use to the enemy. Predictably, each entered a plea of Not Guilty.

  Quinn and the other Special Branch officers who had been involved in the investigation were called to give evidence, together with a number of shadowy figures from MI5.

  Three days later, Sinclair and Haydn Villiers, father and son, and Irma Glatzer were found guilty.

  Sinclair Villiers began an impassioned but rambling plea in mitigation from the dock about the need for a Jewish homeland, and what he described as the treachery of the British government in evading any commitment to that end.

  But after five minutes, he was cut short by the president of the court. ‘This is no place for political speeches, Villiers,’ said Lord Cheylesmore curtly.

  Irma Glatzer had nothing to say, but Haydn Villiers once again protested his innocence.

  After sentence of death had been pronounced, the prisoners were escorted to the condemned cells. The court adjourned and the witnesses made their way out of the gloomy chamber that had seen three more spies convicted. They would not be the last.

  ‘A very successful outcome, Mr Hardcastle,’ said Quinn, as he and the others left the Tower.

  ‘Indeed, sir,’ said Hardcastle.

  ‘By the way,’ Quinn added, ‘Pierre Benoit, the Frenchman who passed on the information given him by Captain Villiers, was guillotined in Paris four days ago.’

  ‘But I thought the French had offered him immunity if he cooperated, sir.’

  ‘They lied,’ said Quinn.

  Within forty-eight hours the three convicted spies had also been executed. Haydn Villiers and Irma Glatzer were dispatched at the Tower; Sinclair Villiers had been hanged at Wormwood Scrubs whence he had been transferred immediately following his trial.

  Waving aside the attendant rabbi, Irma Glatzer was the first to face the firing squad. She did so without displaying any trace of fear. In fact, there was an imperious lifting of her chin just before the volley of shots rang out.

  Haydn Villiers, however, presented a pitiable figure. Gone was the sneering army officer who had told his MI5 interrogators that he was prepared to die for his cause, but who had believed that he would not have to. Semi-conscious and gibbering inaudibly, he was carried to his execution, and so incapable of standing was he that the officer in charge ordered that he be secured to a chair.

  It was six weeks later that the trial of Isaac Gosling took place at the Central Criminal Court at Old Bailey.

  Sir George Cave, the Solicitor-General, appeared for the Crown; Sir Frederick Smith, the Attorney-General, was otherwise engaged on matters concerning the war.

  Gosling pleaded Not Guilty to the two indictments of murdering his father and Peter Stein. But once the evidence of the fingerprints and the footprint, together with Dr Spilsbury’s testimony regarding the blood had been given, the jury took less than an hour to find him guilty.

  The judge donned the black cap, sentenced him to death, and implored the Almighty to have mercy on his soul. To which the judge’s chaplain added ‘Amen’.

  Three weeks later Gosling was hanged at Pentonville prison in north London. As was usual on these occasions, a morbid crowd surged forward to read the black-framed announcement that was posted on the gates. At the same time a black flag was raised over the prison.

  In accordance with the regulations, Gosling’s body was interred in an unmarked grave within the precincts of the prison.