As D’Arcy and the Rothschilds were making the first tentative moves towards exploratory talks, William Melville mysteriously resigned as head of Special Branch on 1 December 1903. No known reason was given for his sudden departure. His Metropolitan Police Service File would have contained the answer to this puzzle, but unlike those of other Special Branch heads, it is no longer to be found. Had he made too many anarchist enemies, and decided to disappear from view, or had he accepted a lucrative position outside the force? All the signs are that this was a speedy and unplanned departure. Patrick Quinn was appointed to succeed him, and as an indication of the haste involved, was promoted to superintendent without sitting the usual examination, which he would have done well in advance if his promotion had been planned and anticipated.
Where then did Melville go? It seems unlikely that his departure was motivated by a desire to avoid the attentions of anarchists or any other undesirable element, as his name and address continue to appear in the London Post Office Directory from the time of his resignation in 1903 to the time of his death in 1918.36 There is no indication either, from any source, that he set up in business in Britain or abroad. It was not until after his death on 1 February 1918,37 that a clue to this mystery presented itself in the ‘Funerals’ column of The Times on Wednesday 6 February 1918. Under the heading ‘Mr William Melville’, the report referred to his funeral the previous day at St Mary’s Cemetery in Kensal Green, and went on to state that he was ‘formerly a superintendent of Special Police at Scotland Yard, and recently of the Military Intelligence Department of the War Office’. Among those listed as attending the funeral was one Lt Curtis Bennett RN, who author Nicholas Hiley38 believed was a naval intelligence officer. This led Hiley to speculate that Melville had been recruited by NID, the Naval Intelligence Division, in 1903 and that he later joined MI5 during the First World War, as stated by The Times report.39 Research by this author has confirmed that Henry Curtis Bennett was indeed an intelligence officer, but was an MI5 officer with no connection to the Naval Intelligence Division.40
It was not, however, until November 1997, when MI5 released material on Melville to the Public Record Office, that Hiley’s theories were finally corroborated, if only in part.41 It revealed that ‘W. Melville, MVO, MBE, was employed with effect from 1 December 1903’ by the War Office.42 It further indicated that he initially worked in the second auxiliary of the Military Intelligence Investigation Branch, which was later incorporated into MI5 when the new service was created in 1909. Those working in this branch are described as ‘shadowing staff’, whose responsibility it was to ‘watch and report’ on designated persons.
We know from contemporary records that the Admiralty and the War Office worked closely together on a number of intelligence matters, and shared the cost of such operations.43 Had the Admiralty decided in December 1903 that a close eye should be kept on developments between D’Arcy and a possible French source of funding? It is highly unlikely that Pretyman would have written such a letter to D’Arcy completely out of the blue, particularly bearing in mind that there does not appear to have been any contact between them since the rejection of D’Arcy’s approach to the Admiralty the previous November. It is therefore probable that some reconnaissance work took place prior to Pretyman’s approach. The impression given by Pretyman in his letter to Sir Charles Greenway is significant, in that it states, ‘we further ascertained that Mr D’Arcy was, at that moment, in the Riviera negotiating for the transfer of his concession to the French Rothschilds’. This very much suggests that such information had come to them literally at a moment’s notice, necessitating prompt action.
D’Arcy was staying at the Grand Hotel while the Rothschild negotiations were taking place, and there would seem little point in the kind of approach featured in Reilly’s story. Where better to approach D’Arcy than at his own hotel, and who better to do so than a fellow guest?
Le Littoral very helpfully lists comings and goings during the period that Alphonse de Rothschild and William Knox D’Arcy were in Cannes. Of the many British visitors passing through, one particular couple stand out – Mr and Mrs William Melville, who stayed at the Grand Hotel throughout D’Arcy’s stay there.44
Melville was no stranger to France,45 and was a fluent French speaker.46 Whatever transpired during the Melville’s ‘holiday’ in Cannes, D’Arcy was soon in receipt of Pretyman’s letter and on his way back to London to meet with the Admiralty’s Oil Committee, who approached Burmah Oil to undertake the formation of a British syndicate.
This process was not, however, quite as speedy and seamless as Pretyman implied fifteen years after the event. In fact, negotiations between D’Arcy and the Burmah Group did not begin for another six months. In the intervening period D’Arcy was experiencing more difficulties with Lloyds Bank, who were pressing him to put forward the concession itself as security against his overdraft, something D’Arcy fiercely resisted. As a result, D’Arcy once again turned to Alphonse de Rothschild, although this time he did not negotiate directly, but sent John Fletcher Moulton to Cannes as his representative.47 Melville, by virtue of the fact that he was now a known quantity so far as Fletcher Moulton was concerned, perhaps felt that his presence could compromise the situation, and appears at this point to have enlisted Reilly’s assistance.
Back in February, the threat that the oil concession might slip into foreign hands had been successfully averted. Now, three short months later, the possibility was again in contention, and it was deemed essential from the Admiralty’s point of view that the renewed talks be stopped dead in their tracks. Unable to again play the same hand that had worked so well before, namely to appeal to D’Arcy’s patriotism, other means of stalling the negotiations had now to be found.
One of the surest ways of scuttling the discussions would have been to sow seeds of doubt in de Rothschild’s mind concerning the chances of oil being found in the location D’Arcy was drilling. By the time the talks commenced in June, Fletcher Moulton was already complaining that de Rothschild’s terms were now somewhat less favourable than when they had last met.48 His despondence was even more evident when, on 24 June, he cryptically referred to an ‘unhelpful outside interest’ whose influence had led to de Rothschild questioning the location of drilling.49 Although the ‘unhelpful outside interest’ is never actually identified by Fletcher Moulton, it seems clear that there is a distinct connection between this involvement and de Rothschild’s acquisition of a report that seems to have been the source of his misgivings.
Meanwhile, some 30km down the coast, where ‘Mr and Mrs Reilly’ were guests at the Continental Hotel in St Raphael, Reilly wrote a letter dated 30 June, in which he referred to ‘a most useful report’ that had helped him ‘turn the tide’.50 The tide had indeed turned for Fletcher Moulton, who apparently found that there was little he could do to dispel de Rothschild’s misgivings or to reassure him. Their discussions finally broke down during the first week of July 1904.51 On cabling Knox D’Arcy in London with the regrettable news, Fletcher Moulton was surprised to find that his friend was not at all downcast by the news. On the contrary, out of the blue, the Admiralty-sponsored talks with Burmah Oil were suddenly back on the agenda with a renewed sense of urgency.52 An agreement was finally signed on 20 May 1905 and, almost three years later, oil was struck at Masjid-i-Suleiman. In April 1909 the Anglo-Persian Oil Company was founded, today known as BP Amoco. Apart from making D’Arcy and his syndicate rich beyond their wildest expectations, the find also guaranteed the Royal Navy a substantial and dependable source of oil.