What a great story over at PunditWire about the mysterious life and suicide in 1913 of Colonel Alfred Redl, a senior officer in the Austro-Hungarian Empire's army.
Was he spying for Russia?
This passage caught my eye:
But the detectives had been favored by a second stroke of luck that day. Herr Nizetas had left the sheath to his pen knife in the cab, evidently after using the knife to open his envelopes. The detectives gave the sheath to the concierge with instructions to ask Colonel Redl if he had lost it when he came downstairs.
Two hours later, a smartly uniformed Colonel Alfred Redl descended the red-carpeted staircase to the lobby as the two detectives concealed themselves behind a potted plant. “Pardon me, Colonel Redl,” inquired the concierge, “but did you possibly misplace this knife sheath?”
“Why yes,” said Redl, absent-mindedly. Then he froze, suddenly realizing that he had betrayed himself.
Shortly after midnight, four grim-faced army officers knocked at the door of Room Number One. Redl was expecting them. One of them handed Redl a gun and they departed.
That's how to do things. You bring dishonour - and get caught. You are then offered a brisk way out.