William Le Queux

"The German Spy System from Within"

Preface.

The amazing ramifications of the German spy system in England are, unfortunately, not even to-day fully realised by the British public, or admitted by the Government.

In face of the hard facts contained in this book, in face of the serious statements of Members in the House of Commons, and in face of what the public are themselves daily reporting to the “authorities,” the present apathy of the Government, and its refusal to admit the peril and deal with spies with a firm hand, is little short of criminal.

Seven years before the outbreak of war, by a mere accident while in Germany, I was able to place before the Intelligence Department of the War Office certain facts which, on being thoroughly investigated, resulted in the establishment of a department for contra-espionage. Therefore, however lightly the Government may to-day affect to treat the question, the fact remains that they have, all along, known of the existence of a horde of German secret-agents in our midst.

Nevertheless, even as recently as March 3, the Government, in response to urgent appeals, blankly refused to vest in one Minister powers to deal with enemy aliens and spies, in place of the present divided policy.

Truly deplorable it is to think that to-day, while we are fighting for our very existence as a nation, spies are permitted entire freedom, and are nobody’s business. This most vital question has been shuttle-cocked between the War Office and the Home Office until it is now impossible to say where the responsibility really lies. The one fact, however, which cannot be disguised from the public is that, if the Germans made a raid upon our shores, the Government, so self-satisfied, would suddenly awake to find, as France and Belgium did, an army of spies busily assisting in our undoing.

“Ex-Intelligence Officer” has, within the covers of this book, plainly shown how systematic espionage is, and that it has been for many years a most cherished part of German war administration, developed with much forethought, and with characteristic Teuton cunning. That a settled and widespread system of spies exists in Great Britain at the present moment is well-known, both to the Government and to the public, yet certain Ministers would have us close our eyes and accept the extraordinary assurance given by Mr McKenna, early in the war, that the spy-peril has been stamped out.

But is it stamped out? I here assert that at no moment of our national history have we been confronted by a graver peril from within, than that with which we are confronted to-day. The public are daily realising more and more that they are being hoodwinked and bamboozled by this shuttlecock policy, which is playing so completely into the enemy’s hands, and is allowing dastardly preparations to be made to hasten our downfall. The inflamed state of public opinion is only too apparent by the mass of correspondence which I have received from all classes, from peers to working men, regarding the publication of my book “German Spies in England,” and, further, by its phenomenal sale. Every letter of the piles before me as I write, complains bitterly of the apathy and disregard with which the authorities treat the reports made to them of the doings of spies, and all express disgust at the refusal to stir in a matter which so closely affects our national security, or even to institute the smallest inquiry.

Over the whole subject mystery and mystification brood.

The present policy—in face of what the Government know, and what I myself know, as one who has spent the past seven years in studying the German Secret Service system and patiently watching its agents—allows, for example, Baron von Bülow, brother of the German ex-Chancellor, to live comfortably at Putney, in the full enjoyment of a telephone; it mysteriously reverses many military orders for the removal of alien enemies from prohibited areas, providing always that those persons are of the better class; it allows signals to be sent nightly from our shores to the sea, and vice versa; it releases about 1,000 aliens monthly from the internment-camps; it has attempted to gag the Press, and is, to-day—as I will presently prove—stifling all inquiries into the doing of spies among us.

In no other capital in the world, save London, would such a disgraceful scandal be for one moment tolerated, as that which any reader may investigate for himself, providing he is careful not to obtrude his British nationality, namely, the toasting of the “Day” of Britain’s downfall by these self-same enemy aliens, who, recently released from the internment-camps, now nightly meet and plot in the various little foreign restaurants in the neighbourhood of the Tottenham Court Road. Here, round the small tables in the underworld of London, sit enemy men and women, openly expressing the most intense hatred of us, gloating over their own piratical deeds and barbarities, and declaring that in England, ere long, there is to be repeated the same savagery and unbridled lust with which poor Belgium was swept from end to end. This is no idle statement. I have been present, posing as an Italian and a neutral, and I have seen and heard. Indeed, in those places, news from Germany is known hours before it is known to our military or naval authorities, and I have heard it declared openly that the vanguard of spies among us are ready to act at a given signal—which is to be the appearance of Zeppelins over London—to blow up bridges, water-mains, and railways, destroy telephones and telegraphs, and commit the most widespread havoc, incendiary and otherwise, for the purpose of creating a panic, and preventing the movements of troops.

Naturally, one asks, where are the police? On discovering this scandalous state of affairs I went to New Scotland Yard to ask that same question. I had interviews with various officials, and after over an hour’s prevarication and elusive replies to my rather disconcerting questions, I succeeded in eliciting the very illuminating fact that they were unable to act without the consent of the Home Office! Why, one may ask, is it withheld? Why should we risk our well-being by allowing these hot-beds of conspiracy and crime to be officially protected, while a man may be hauled before the magistrate for the heinous offence of not having a rear-lamp to his cycle? What a comedy!

Mr Justice Ridley has rightly said: “We must make an end of spies.” Yet the fact that spies are being officially winked at can no longer be doubted. Before me, I have fully two hundred cases reported by responsible citizens in various parts of the country in which the “authorities”—who seem, by the way, to have no authority at all—have refused even to make the most superficial inquiry, or else a constable in full uniform has been sent to interview the person under suspicion!

Let us calmly consider the present situation. The mystery of the official protection afforded to spies has been greatly increased during the month of March, and the public confidence has been further shaken in consequence of the statement of Mr Bonar Law in the House of Commons, who not only declared that there were, on March 1st, 600 male alien enemies still residing on or near the coast, but also made a most interesting revelation. The Admiralty, he said, in order to test whether signalling was really going on from the shore, sent a trawler to sea with instructions to show German signal-lights. And these were instantly answered!

What was done? Nothing! And, judging from the experience of the public, this is hardly surprising. Perhaps a case in point may be of interest. In the middle of February, from an officer in His Majesty’s Service, I received information that certain highly suspicious signals were being made nightly between the Kent coast and London. Therefore I went forth at once to investigate, in company with the officer in question, who is a qualified signaller and wireless expert, and a non-commissioned officer also qualified in signalling, while I myself know something of signalling and wireless. For a fortnight we were out nearly every night in a motor-car—sometimes watching from the tops of hills, a cold and weary vigil from dark to dawn—until we had established, beyond all shadow of doubt, the houses whence the mysterious lights emanated. These houses—several of them being residences of well-to-do people, and all in high commanding positions, had, in each case, an alien living in them, whose name and calling I succeeded in obtaining. Then, one night, while posted on a hill commanding nearly the whole of Surrey, and having taken down their code-messages on many occasions, we resolved to make a test, and with a powerful signalling-apparatus, I suddenly replied to one of the signals, repeated part of the code-message, and in pretence of not understanding the remainder, asked for its repetition. At once it was flashed to me and read by all three of us! In the message, which, later on, was submitted to an expert in ciphers, occurred the numeral five. It was more than a coincidence, I think, that only an hour before that message had been flashed, five German aeroplanes had left the Belgian coast on their way to England!

On three separate occasions, from various high positions in Kent and Surrey, we flashed German signals, which were at once responded to. Then, having fully established that messages were being nightly so exchanged, to and from the metropolis, always with the same three code-letters as prefix, and having definitely fixed those houses harbouring the spies, I considered it my duty, as an Englishman serving his country, to call in the assistance of the Intelligence Department of the War Office, and to them I furnished a full report, together with the signals sent and received.

Though my facts were vouched for by three officers and a signaller, and four civilians. I, at first, did not even receive the courtesy of a reply to what I had declared to be a matter of extreme urgency.

Two nights after sending in my report, some officers of the Royal Naval Air Service discovered a powerful car containing two men reconnoitring certain main roads in a Surrey valley actually beneath the residence of one of the enemy signallers, and they naturally stopped it. The strangers were questioned, so suspiciously were they acting, while in the meantime one of the officers reported by telephone to the Admiralty and asked for instructions. But the amazing reply received was that they had no authority to stop the car! As for myself, I again wrote to the Intelligence Department of the War Office, but after eleven days all they would deign me was a mere printed notice informing me that my report had been received. To this I replied, asking that immediate steps might be taken to investigate and arrest the signallers as dangerous to the State—more dangerous perhaps even than the cyclist without his back-lamp—but to that letter I have not even received an acknowledgment! Another instance may perhaps be of interest. I discovered that, among the Belgian refugees from Antwerp who had received charitable aid in one of our biggest seaports, were two men upon whom considerable suspicion had fallen. One posed as a smooth-tongued priest, and wore that garb, while the other was a “friend,” apparently somewhat lower in the social scale. The priest asserted that he had been head of a college near Antwerp; and in consequence of his pious profession, he was, as was but natural, made much of by the ladies in the city in question. One day this priest, who it had been noted had been unusually inquisitive, and had been constantly strolling round the extensive docks and quays, and had watched the military preparations in case of a raid, suddenly applied to the local Belgian Relief Committee for money to return to Antwerp. Questioned, he told rather a lame story about some of his pupils having returned, while his friend, who also applied at the same time for leave to return, gave as excuse that he had to go to look after his cows! One wonders how many the Germans had left him. Or, perhaps he was a humorist, and meant the Black Cows—those mystic signs employed by Von Kluck’s spies. The Relief Committee, apparently, were not exactly satisfied with the stories; nevertheless, they eventually granted the pair money for their journey back to Belgium.

A report of this I furnished immediately to the Intelligence Department, offering to send them information when the pair left the seaport, in order that they might be met on arrival in London and questioned, and I also supplied them with the time of the train by which they were to leave London for Flushing. The whole matter was ignored, and an official acknowledgment, printed, of course, was sent to me three days after the fair had gone across to Flushing—full of most important information, as was afterwards discovered! Here is yet another instance. In Liverpool the special constables were performing most excellent work in hunting out alien enemies and sending them to internment-camps, when, of a sudden, an order came—whence nobody appears to know—to arrest no one further, for, as the order put it, “such action may create public alarm.” Why is it, too, that men of wealth and influence, bankers, brokers, financiers and Birthday-baronets, German-born Privy Councillors, and other alien enemies who happen to possess money, are caressed and given such latitude to exert any evil influence they may like upon us? Why, also, was Baron von Ow-Wachendorf, a lieutenant in the Yellow Uhlans of Stuttgart, just under thirty years of age, permitted to practise running in Hyde Park so as to fit him for his military duties: and why was he—on March 1st—allowed to leave Tilbury for Holland to fight against us?

These are questions upon which the public should demand satisfaction, and to arraign those responsible.

I here wish to state, most emphatically, that I am not a politician, neither am I criticising, for one moment, the splendid military administration of Lord Kitchener. If the spy-peril were placed in his capable hands—with complete power to act, to arrest, and to punish—then I would, at this moment, lay down my pen upon the question. Yet, as one who was among the very first—perhaps the first—to discover the secret plans of Germany and to report them, I consider it my duty, as a lover of my country, to warn the public.

The time has passed for mincing matters, or for the further protection of traitors in our midst. I here cast no reflection upon any single person, and further, any person mentioned in this article is beyond the pale of my statement, but I here assert that I have had, in my possession, a list—actually shown to me by a friend at Wilhelm-strasse, who was their paymaster—of persons in England and America who have been in receipt of German money, and who, by dint of it and of secret influence, have risen to high degree, and, in some instances, to places with fat emoluments. Motives of patriotism alone prevent me from revealing that list at this hour of our national crisis.

The many truths contained in the following chapters of this book must surely reveal to the reader the edge of the volcano upon which we are now sitting. Notwithstanding all the false official assurances, the sleepiness of the much-vaunted Intelligence Department, and the fettered hands of the police—both Metropolitan and Provincial—must surely give the man-in-the-street to pause. Spies are to-day among us in every walk of life, and in almost every town in Great Britain. Every single man and woman among them is impatiently awaiting the signal for the destruction of our homes and the ruin and massacre of our dear ones, and yet we are actually asked to believe that no danger exists!

The same kid-gloved policy which, at a cost of 13,000 pounds has provided a pleasant mansion with charming grounds, and a staff of valets, servants, etc, for German officers, many of whom were responsible for the barbaric outrages on innocent women, and the massacre of children in Belgium, has also placed a protecting hand upon our alien enemies. Assuredly this is an injudicious policy, for it has already created a very grave suspicion and distrust in the public mind.

The “authorities”—whoever the persons in real authority may be—know full well how, with every outgoing mail to Holland or Scandinavia, there goes forth a mass of information concerning us, collected by spies, and forwarded to neutral countries, where it is again collected by German secret-agents, and forwarded to the German Secret Service in Berlin.

These letters are generally written, either in invisible ink or in cipher-ticks, upon newspapers or magazines, which are merely placed in unsuspicious-looking wrappers addressed to somebody, usually with an English name, in Holland, Denmark, or Sweden. I have before me two such letters posted in Hertfordshire. Further, we have undoubted communication existing nightly from the sea to London by means of the line of signal-lights which I have described, and further, these, it has lately been proved, extend north, from the neighbourhood of Harrow, right up to Leeds, Manchester, and Liverpool. There are other fixed lights, too; brilliantly-lit windows and skylights, which show each night, and are intended as beacons for the guidance of the enemy’s aircraft. Yet, all the time, we pursue the foolish policy of trying to hide London by darkening it, and, at the same time, shine searchlights at the self-same place and at the same hour each night—apparently to betray to the enemy our most vulnerable points.

It was not long ago that, in this connection, my friend Mr Geo. R. Sims pointed out the existence of a line of these guiding-lights, extending from Willesden across to Buckingham Palace, and happily, through the exposure he made, those of our “friends” who maintained them have now been forced to leave them unlit.

Germans have been found in possession of hotels and mansions in strategic positions all over the United Kingdom, and to-day numbers of alien enemies—thanks to the order which has released them from the internment-camps—are actually employed at the various great railway termini in the Metropolis! Fancy such a state of affairs being permitted by Imperial Germany—a country in which British prisoners of war are half-starved, as evidenced by a cleverly composed letter before me from one who is unfortunately a prisoner, and which passed the German censor, whose knowledge of English was not so extensive as to cause him to suspect.

When the reader has digested the pages which follow—chapters which give a very lucid, calm, and first-hand idea of the low-down methods of German espionage, he will, I venture to think, agree that it is of no use to cross the barbarian’s sword with a peacock’s feather. Germany intends, if she can, to crush and to humiliate us, to devastate our homes, to outrage and massacre our dear ones, and by every subtle and dastardly means, to bring upon us a disaster so stupendous as to stagger humanity. Shall we remain lulled to sleep further by assurances which are not borne out by facts? Germany’s advance guard of spies are already here, rubbing shoulders with us, many of them smug and respectable citizens passing among us entirely unsuspected, members of our churches, honoured, and believed to be Britons. Some are alien enemies, others are traitors, who have imperilled this country’s safety for the lure of German gold.

In another place I have fully explained how the German Government held out an alluring bait to myself. If this was done to me, then surely it has been done to others.

We are Britons, fighting for our King and our Country. Our fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers, have gone forth to battle for the right and hurl back the barbaric Teuton-tide which threatens to overwhelm us. Some, alas! already lie in their graves. Is it therefore not our duty to those we hold dear to see that spies shall not exist in our midst? If the Government are so utterly incapable of dealing effectively with the problem, as they are now proved to be, then why do they not allow the formation of a Central Board, with drastic powers, to end at once this national danger, which grows more acute with the dawn of every day?

I am no alarmist, nor am I affected with spy mania. I am merely here writing a plain and bitter truth, the truth which I have learnt after years of experience and patient inquiry. If space permitted, I could relate a hundred stories of espionage, all supported by evidence; stories which would contain as much excitement as any I have ever written in the guise of fiction. But my only object in this preface is to urge the public to read this book, to inquire into and study the problem for themselves, and to assure them that the words of “Ex-Intelligence Officer” are full of very grave truths, which cannot be ignored or refuted.

It is for the public themselves to demand satisfaction in a very determined and outstanding manner. The voice of the country is unanimous that we are being trifled with, and surely it is a thousand pities that mistrust should thus arise, as it is rapidly arising, at this grave crisis of our national history.

The public have been told definitely by Mr Tennant that “Every enemy alien is known, and is now under constant police surveillance.” If the public, in face of the mass of evidence accumulating to the contrary, will still believe it, then let them rest in their fool’s paradise until the Day of Awakening. If not, then they, through their representatives in Parliament, have the matter in their own hands.

William Le Queux.

Devonshire Club, London S.W.

April 1915.

Foreword.

British and other official circles know more of the German secret service than the public are aware of, and there is little that is done by German agents without the cognisance of the countries affected by their work, at the present time. The following pages make no attempt at unveiling all the secrets of the German system, for that would involve not a book, but a library. What has been done is to present such evidence with regard to the system as can be verified from unquestionable sources—the book given here in no case goes beyond the truth, and is capable of proof, with the exception of the chapter on agents provocateurs, of whose work no direct proofs are available to the general public. In this case the writer has been careful to state facts in such a way that they carry their own proof.

Further, as an ex-member of the Intelligence Staff, the writer has had access to information respecting the British secret service which is not generally available, but patriotic motives would alone be sufficient to withhold this information. All that is said with regard to the British methods of counter-espionage, or with regard to the measures adopted by any other Government against German spying, is compiled from information available in the columns of the Press to all who care to read. The book is written in the earnest hope that it may do something toward revealing the nature of the German spy system to incredulous folk, for by opening the eyes of the public to such a definite danger one is a step nearer to the crushing of German militarism.

The Author.

Chapter One.

A Review of the Spy System.

In all things pertaining to the conduct of war Germany of to-day has copied as far as possible the methods of Napoleon the First. In military strategy, German experts have fallen far behind their model—or rather, they have never approached his methods, because they have never fathomed the secret of his success. Von Clausewitz, the greatest German military writer, planned his “On War” on Napoleonic lines, but left out the greatest factor of Napoleon’s work. As he saw the work of the great conqueror, Napoleon made use of accident: in reality, Napoleon made the accident, and this Von Clausewitz could not comprehend. French genius rediscovered the Napoleon strategy, but even unto this day German military methods leave out the idea of making circumstances instead of being limited by them.

Thus, in striving to attain the Napoleonic ideal in things military, Germany has failed. But Napoleon established a new branch of military organisation when he codified and arranged a system of espionage, and, in adopting from him this systematisation of what had hitherto been a haphazard business, German builders for a world-empire have gone far beyond their model, so that to-day the German spy system is the most perfect ever organised, not even excepting the system of Venice in its palmy days, where all was written and nothing spoken, nor that of Russia in comparatively modern times.

The German system falls naturally under several heads. To take them in reverse order of importance, there is first the commercial system of espionage, which takes the form of sending out men who accept posts as clerks in foreign (to Germany) business firms. These men come, especially to England, ostensibly to learn the language, but in many cases they have received thorough tuition in idiomatic and commercial English from some member of the British colonies existing in such centres as Berlin and Dresden. They accept a very low wage for what are in reality services far beyond their pay in value. They gain access to books and price-lists, and to lists of customers, by means of which they are able to give exact details of the markets to which British goods are sent, and the prices, rates of freight, discounts, etc. These particulars are transmitted in full to Germany, and with them the German competing firms are able to undercut British firms in foreign markets, and to secure British trade by always making their estimates a little lower than those of the competing British firms. Since in commerce all is legitimate in the interests of one’s employer, the only comment to be made on this method of spying is that it is despicable in that it involves the deliberate abuse of hospitality, and thus no code of ethics can be found to justify it; but business and ethics are two different things.

This commercial spying, however, is but an offshoot from the great espionage system perfected by Stieber, chief of German secret police and privy councillor, of whom more anon. The main system is concerned with military and naval matters, and various points discovered in connection with this main system show that Germany has for many years made up its mind to embark on a war of aggrandisement—whether or no the War Lord of popular conception was fully in agreement with the idea is another matter, and one that history will probably show.

The superiority of the German system to that of other and what may be termed competing nations is evidenced by one apparently unimportant fact. When French and British spies have been caught in Germany, and sentenced to terms of imprisonment in German fortresses, in a great number of cases it has transpired that the offenders were military officers still on the active list. They had been specially chosen for their work, perhaps; they had undertaken it with the highest of motives, also, perhaps; and they had understood the grave risks they ran in that their Governments would afford them no direct protection in case of their being detected. But they were officers on the active list, soldiers by profession.

Now, on consideration, the calling of a spy reveals itself as one of doubtful honesty, no matter what the motives prompting the spy may be—and the soldier is at all times supposed to be a man of honour and strict integrity—which he usually is. Whether the spy be a British, French, Russian, or German subject, he is engaged in abusing the hospitality of the country on which he is spying, and, from a military point of view, is not playing the game. So little is he playing the game, in fact, that in time of peace his government refuses to recognise him if he fails, and in time of war he gets no combatant rights, but is shot out of hand by the enemy into whose hands he falls. The formality of a trial is unnecessary, if the fact of espionage, accomplished or attempted, be apparent. Guilty of what cannot be called other than a mean act, attempting to endanger the lives of soldiers by unsoldierly methods, in revealing himself as a spy a man condemns himself and passes his own sentence—which is as it should be. And yet two of the Great Powers permit commissioned officers to undertake this dirty work, as it must be called!

Germany has realised that special men ought to be employed for this special, necessary, but at the same time despicable business. Your perfect spy is a man of criminal impulse, a moral pervert of sorts, and, recognising this, Stieber and his followers in the government of the system have organised a separate branch of the Great German General Staff, a branch made up of chosen men and women, of whom the men may at one time have held military or naval commissions in this warlike nation, but very few are officers on the active list. It has been realised in this land of nearly perfect espionage that the duties of a spy and those of an officer of the services—of either service—are not compatible.

The German secret-service corps which Stieber organised is a matter of three main departments: the military, the naval, and the diplomatic spy corps. Under the last-mentioned head must be grouped the work of Germans in foreign countries, notably in France and to a certain extent in England, with a view to influencing labour by means of strikes and industrial unrest, a system of influence which often approaches closely to and sometimes interlinks with commercial espionage, though it is primarily directed to the paralysis of a possible enemy in case of war, and the facilitating of a German attack on the country in which the work is being done. For always German strategy has been that of attack; whatever protestations of peaceful intents the German nation may make, there can be no doubt of its real designs when one considers the trend of all its policy in recent years, the nature of its naval and military increase of effort, and, as far as revelations show, the methods pursued in its espionage system. Germany as a whole has meditated attack with a view to extension of territory and commercial advantage for years, and no apologist can adduce evidence to justify, on the score of a defensive policy, such preparations for war as the country has made. One instance of the methods pursued by the espionage department will illustrate this.

The fortifications of Maubeuge, the French fortress which fell to the German attack in so marvellously short a time, were proof against anything short of the heaviest siege-artillery, and, before this class of artillery can be mounted for use against a town or fortress, gun-platforms levelled and supported by masonry equal to the strain imposed in firing the guns must be constructed. The construction of these platforms involves much calculation and measurement, and is not a matter of such time as was involved in the fall of Maubeuge, but of a much longer period. The explanation of the use of siege-guns against Maubeuge, and the rapid reduction of the fortress, is said to lie in the purchase of about 600 acres of the woods of Lanières, about four miles from Maubeuge, by an agent for Frederic Krupp, the builder of the siege-guns with which Maubeuge was reduced. The firm of Krupp, for whom this purchase was made as far back as 1911, announced its intention of building a locomotive factory on the ground acquired; but, long before the present war was declared, Krupp constructed the platforms on which siege-guns could be mounted to command Maubeuge, and totally neutralised the value of the fortifications as well as turning out locomotives.

Here is evidence, if evidence were necessary, of Germany’s deliberate intent to make war in its own good time; not merely to defend German frontiers, but to attack and reduce a neighbouring State by the use of methods which any nation save this one would regard as too dishonourable for use. Since the system of espionage has reached to such lengths as this, it will be seen that the stories of spies and their work, in which the public delights, are built up out of the doings of comparatively innocent agents, who are credited with dangerous tendencies and many melodramatic and impossible actions. That minor plans and persons do exist is certain, but for the most part the spying of which the public hears is merely incidental to the great whole—a whole composed for the most part of far different elements from the clerks, hotel-waiters, and other minor incidentals on which the imagination is fed, in order that the reality may more easily escape detection.

There are in existence many books purporting to tell the actual work of spies and to expose the system under which these spies work, but it may be said at the outset that no full exposure of the spy system of Germany has ever been made. Stieber, in his Memoirs, told exactly what it suited him to tell, but he did not give away any essential secrets of organisation, nor has any other writer done this, up to the present. All that we have in the way of real evidence consists in things as well attested by fact and result as the incident of Maubeuge and the gun-platforms, related above; in selections from the Memoirs of spies of those portions which bear in themselves evidence of truth, and in reports of police-court proceedings in England and France. From these sources we can piece together a fairly accurate conception of the whole business of the spy; but, as regards books purporting to detail the experience of spies, or the character of the organisation under which they work, we must accept these experiences and the rest with all possible reserve, remembering that, the more melodramatic and the more plausible they may be, the more they should be questioned as regards accuracy.

Moreover, there is sufficient evidence to show that the system is so extensive, and that its ramifications are so far-reaching, that no one book could contain all details of the various kinds of work entailed on the German spy system. It is possible only, in a book dealing with the system, to indicate the main lines on which spies in connection with military and naval matters work, and to give some concrete examples of their failures and successes. Naturally, there is far more material available as regards failures, for the work of the successful spy is of such a nature that it rarely comes to light; it is more often unheard of until, as in the case of the gun-platforms constructed in time of peace about Maubeuge, the work itself is put to use.

Chapter Two.

Stieber.

Those who label Stieber as “von” in speaking of him are about on a level with any who would choose to confer on Crippen, of unlamented memory, the title of baronet, for the two pretensions are about equal, so far as right to them is concerned. Karl Stieber was born at Mersebourg, a town of Saxony in Prussia, in the year 1818. His parents were people of the middle class, good and inconspicuous Prussians who destined their son for the profession of the law, in which he qualified as a barrister, but in which he achieved no distinction. It was not until 1847, when he was nearly thirty years of age, that Stieber first came to notice. In that year he obtained employment in the factory of Schoeffel Brothers in Silesia, where the Socialistic movement that has gained so great a hold on modern Germany was even then beginning.

Stieber, seeming to throw in his lot with the workmen, was in reality waiting to see which way the cat would jump before he compromised himself beyond withdrawal from either side. In the meantime, he won the heart of a daughter of one of the directors of the firm, and displayed his abilities in the matter of espionage by compromising the other director—his future wife’s uncle—in the Socialistic movement to such an extent that the unfortunate man was accused of plotting against the Government and inciting the workmen to revolt. By his denunciation of Schoeffel, who was sentenced to a year’s imprisonment for acts which Stieber himself had committed, Stieber procured employ in the police service, entering the ranks of the revolutionary workmen ostensibly as one of the warmest adherents of the popular movement, but in reality its worst and most insidious enemy.

In this guise he succeeded, in the course of popular and excited demonstrations in Berlin, in attracting the attention of Frederick William, the then King of Prussia. The year 1848 was a time of revolutionary movements, and Stieber chose the right side. When, in 1850, the Prussian Government began the measures of repression which have been continued in the case of the Socialist element down to the present day, Frederick William appointed Stieber to the post of Polizierath, a position in which he was superior to and beyond control of the Commissioner of Police.

This was the inauguration of the system which Stieber perfected. Hitherto, military espionage had been in the hands of the military themselves, and, with their customary reverence for precedent, the military were inclined to resent this appointment of an outsider to the control of what had been especially their department. Further, the regular police viewed Stieber with disfavour—it was not to their liking that an informer such as he should be set over them, and able to work independently of their control. It speaks much for Stieber’s genius for organisation that he combated both these influences successfully, and established himself—with the aid of royal patronage and protection, of course—at the head of a special organisation which was quite independent of either military or police control.

Up to 1853 the system grew—in his Memoirs Stieber tells, with a conceit quite in keeping with his other qualities, how he worked on the confidence of his sovereign with minute reports concerning the doings of court personages. He seems, in fact, to have taken pleasure in the recital of his meannesses, which his perverted moral sense caused him to see as exploits worthy of pride. It was as if, having nothing of moment on which to exercise his cunning, he kept himself in practice on anything or anybody that might be at hand. Thus until, in 1854, he was charged with the work of extending into neighbouring countries the system he had already perfected in Prussia. The cost of the business was charged against “service of the interior,” and, in addition to the sum expended on internal espionage, a sum of 12,250 pounds was set aside for the campaign which prepared the way for the wars in which Prussia rose to the standing of a first-class European Power.

Through the severity of his measures in Prussia itself, Stieber caused such a popular outcry that he was relieved of his post as chief of police, but Bismarck, then coming to power, employed his hound in equally useful work outside the bounds of the kingdom by sending him through Bohemia, where, by establishing spies all along the route that the army would have to traverse later, Stieber laid the foundations for the campaign that was to end so disastrously for Austria at Sadowa. By 1866, when the Prussian campaign against Austria opened, Stieber had Bohemia so thoroughly planted with spies that every step of the Austrian forces was known to their opponents before it was taken, every village had its informer ready for the Prussian troops when they entered, and, though the system of mapping out posts of defence and military positions had not then reached to the perfection it has since attained, it may be said that the campaign against Austria was half won by Stieber before it was entered on by the Prussian army. These things have so far passed into history that they have become general knowledge; but how Stieber enlisted and placed his spies—the actual routine and full secret of the work—he is careful not to tell. It may be assumed that, among other qualities, he possessed the power of reading his fellows; he was a genius in psychology, and knew his spy when he saw one. Hence his success, for which he was made chief of the “active service police,” a force never recognised in this way up to his time, and a post created practically by his own ability in his special line of work.

From his years of exile he had learned the lesson of dealing as lightly as possible with the people of his own country, and henceforth he associated himself with the development of systems of espionage in other countries, notably in France, where he made all preparations for the war of 1870, and made them so thoroughly that it is common knowledge now how the German invaders knew the country in which they were fighting better than did Napoleon’s own troops. He worked quite independently of the diplomatic corps, established his own agencies in France, and set up his “fixed posts,” in a manner which has survived to some extent up to the present day both as regards France and other countries. At this time the work which he was in process of organising was a thing so new that it received little attention from the French authorities of that day, and the system may be said to have reached its zenith of perfection with the war of 1870, when in every French town and village of the north-east was a “fixed post,” or, in plain English, a spy in the pay of the German secret service. So complete was the information furnished that the personal histories of individuals, their failings and eccentricities, were catalogued, and scandal was tabulated in the archives of Berlin for use in case it should be required, while fortifications and districts were mapped out with a thoroughness such as the military surveyors of France could not excel. When the war came the Prussian troops marched through the country and knew its resources and difficulties even better than the inhabitants themselves. How this was accomplished will be shown later in detail.

Meanwhile Stieber, as privy councillor and confidant of Bismarck, gradually overcame the antipathy of the military caste—an antipathy which his useful work in Bohemia had gone far to allay. According to the account given in his own Memoirs, he discovered that an attempt was to be made on the life of the Czar Alexander when the latter attended a grand review in company with Napoleon at Longchamps. It was Bismarck who conceived the idea of not only letting the attempt take place, but of frustrating it and having the would-be assassin arrested, since, as Bismarck planned, French justice would not impose the capital sentence for the merely attempted crime. The result justified the forecast, for the assassin was not executed—and Alexander remembered, when 1870 came, that France had let off lightly (from a Russian point of view) the man who would have murdered him. In consequence, Prussia had nothing to fear and Napoleon had nothing to hope from Russia when the war began. Stieber could have stopped the attempt at assassination, had he chosen; but, by allowing things to fall in the fashion that they did, Bismarck made certain that there would be no Franco-Russian alliance. It was characteristic of Prussian diplomacy and Prussian methods, and it was a trick after Stieber’s own heart, as his Memoirs show.

With this brief and necessarily incomplete sketch of his career up to 1870 the personal history of Stieber as a man may be said to end, as far as the present German spy system is concerned, for from that point onward the system became of more account than the man. So far, his work was all personal in character; he conducted his own campaign in Bohemia, and he organised the French espionage by personal work, but after 1870 he became so great a power that the system went on and expanded with him as its head—it was no longer a matter of a man and his work, but a department and its control. Its efficiency is largely due to him, even now, and there is no doubt that he brought into working the most perfect methods of espionage ever known.

His Memoirs must not be taken too literally; it is necessary to read between the lines, for Stieber was a man of inordinate vanity—though this never interfered with the efficiency of his work—and, if he is to be believed, there was nobody in all Prussia of so much importance as himself. He had no moral sense—it was a quality missed out from his composition altogether, and the Memoirs show him as a criminal by instinct, able to gratify criminal impulses by protected acts. For in no other way can be explained his obvious pleasure in the commission of what, under any other circumstances, would rank as crimes, fraudulent and despicable to the last degree. The “syndicalism” of the present day is a realisation of a dream that Stieber dreamed—not for the purpose of benefiting the working classes, though, but with a view to rendering an enemy powerless against Germany in case of war; the division of the German secret service into two branches, known respectively as the department of political action and the department of espionage proper, was intended by Stieber to set up a section, under the former title, which should take advantage of the working classes in France—and in England as well—by causing them to act innocently against the best interests of their country in the belief that they were following out their own ideals and winning freedom for democracy. Espionage proper is concerned with more purely military enterprise, and was the earlier creation of this arch-spy.

Stieber died in 1892, full of honours, and much regretted by those whom he had served. He had done more than any other man to sow dissension between France and Russia; he had contributed largely to the humiliation of France, and had made possible the subjugation of Austria in a seven weeks’ war; he had served his country well, having given it the most effective system of espionage that the world has ever known. If the principle that “the end justifies any means” be accepted, he had done well for Prussia before 1870 and for Germany after—but his place is among the criminals and perverts of the world, not among its great men.

Chapter Three.

Training.

The selection of the higher class of spy, in these days, is very largely a matter of chance. Almost in every case the man selected must be bi-lingual, while, if he has three languages at his command, so much the better for him—and for his employers. In purely military espionage, that which concerns plans of fortifications, estimates of strength and movements, topographical surveying, ascertaining the character of officers, and the possibility of influencing them either by bribery or blackmail, and general secret-service work likely to be of service to the Great German General Staff, capable and clever men must be selected. The “German waiter” of melodramatic fancy has little part in this class of work; for one thing, a waiter has to perform stated work at stated times, and he is liable to suspicion being cast on him if he is a man of irregular habits or is in any way unable to account naturally for his spare time. The clerk in an office is subject to the same disabilities, and as a whole it may be said that the clerk and waiter class, if they are engaged in espionage at all, are the small fry of minor supernumeraries, agents acting on behalf of the spies who pay them, instead of spies in the direct employ of the German Government. They are not given such work as would involve their possessing enough knowledge to make them dangerous in themselves, and are not the class whose work need cause uneasiness. The real spy needs all his time and all his freedom of movement, and he is placed in such a position that he has these to the full.

His training is a hard schooling of months. To be efficient for his work, he must be a qualified surveyor, able to make plans of areas of ground from observation and often without instruments; he must, at the same time, be a capable photographer, for obvious reasons. He must be able to judge distances under all conditions of weather and light—as an instance of this may be mentioned the fully authenticated case of the spy who was set to study the Forth Bridge, and who was expected to supply his Government with full details of the bridge, of how men could be placed with a view to its instant destruction at a given signal, of the geological nature of the land into which the foundations of the bridge were built, and of the quantities of explosive required to reduce the structure. The man selected to obtain this information had to accomplish his task without arousing suspicion; he had to judge his distances solely by pacing, observing angles, and subsequent triangulation, and in this respect his work was perfectly accurate, for he judged the distances to a matter of yards and heights to the foot. Though these coincided with information at the disposal of any member of the public, apparently the Great German General Staff placed no faith in published information, or at least wanted it confirmed.

Further, the military spy must know units of the British Army at sight, and must have at hand if not actually in his mind the code-word by which each unit is tabulated at Berlin. He must know the code-words, also, for various patterns of gun, must be conversant with classes of explosive and patterns of shell, and must be able, if luck and his own ingenuity should favour him, to carry in his mind sufficient of the nature and plan of a fortification to be able to draw a map of the work to scale, as nearly as possible, from memory.

In all purely technical details of his work the military spy is trained in matters military before he sets out on the smallest piece of work, and he passes examinations just as a member of the military service would, except that his examinations are stiffer than those of the officer, and he is required to know all where the officer is only asked to acquire a part. For, in technical matters, the military spy must never be at a loss; he must be able to place guns and men, works and engineering details, with accuracy, since misinformation is worse than none.

In the actual method employed in obtaining information much is left to the judgment of the spy. It is a platitude that no two battles are ever identical in character, and thus the plans of military commanders must vary with the line of country, the strength of the forces engaged, and many other points: in the same way the spies who pave the way for Germany’s soldiers are never confronted by the same conditions twice, and they must adapt their methods to fit the circumstances of each case. In this, the more delicate and difficult part of their work, no amount of training can avail them, but all depends on their natural ability to make use of men and circumstances, a quality which is more to be classed as work than as training, since it is either part of the composition of a man, or is definitely lacking and not to be imparted by any training.

Naval spying is practically analogous with military work in character, except that all the training must be devoted to familiarity with the details of naval work and construction—in the matter of coast fortifications, the work of naval and military spies overlaps to a certain extent. But, in addition to coast defence works and dockyards, which call for the activities of both naval and military spies, there are the details of every class of battleship to be learned. Topography is the first point, common to both branches, and trigonometry is an accessory to this, practically. But naval construction and drawing are peculiar to the naval spy, who is handed on to the care of an expert officer of the German Naval Intelligence Department, as a rule, and so familiarised with the details of various classes of torpedoes, mines, submarines, and guns, that he is able to recognise any one of these things at a glance, and tell the particular class and power which it represents.

Further, the naval spy is made acquainted with the build and outline of every class of naval vessel in the world. He is first schooled in the details of the various battleships, cruisers, and smaller craft belonging to the Great Powers, and, later, is taught to recognise these vessels by silhouettes, from which he gains sufficient knowledge to recognise any ship either by day or night—assuming that the night is of such a character that the ship is at all visible. He studies uniforms and insignia of rank, signals and codes, and at the end of his training is a fully qualified naval officer so far as the theory of naval matters goes. In the yards of Wilhelmshaven and Kiel is opportunity of putting his knowledge to the test, and he has to satisfy his examiners on all the points on which he has been coached.

With regard to diplomatic espionage, the coaching bestowed on the two branches already mentioned is not undertaken, for the diplomatic spy—in the narrower sense of the phrase, since all spies must be extremely diplomatic—is chosen, as a rule, from among the ranks of naval and military spies. In order to undertake diplomatic missions, and supplement the work of the German embassies in the various European centres, a spy must be a very good man indeed, as far as his work is concerned. He must be as was Stieber, absolutely ruthless and without scruple; he must be a good linguist, a man of good presence and address, and a tactful man as well. The corps of diplomatic spies is a small one, for this work is the best paid of all, the most delicate and intimate of all, and it is not a class of work of which there could ever be enough for a large staff, even in the state of European politics that existed at the outbreak of this last German war, since the diplomats of Germany are themselves sufficient, as a rule, for all needs of this kind. The diplomatic spy is called in for services which a diplomat is unable to undertake, and also as a check on the work of diplomats—he is, as it were, a member of a system which assures the efficiency of the diplomatic system.

His training lies in the commissions entrusted to him in military and naval capacities: by super-excellence in the performance of his duties in these departments, he shows himself sufficiently able and efficient to warrant his being trusted with less obvious and more confidential tasks. He works, as do all the members of the German spy system, independently of all other workers for the good of the State. For in every case the spy works alone, lest in compassing his own downfall he should bring about that of others as well. This was a principle inaugurated by Stieber, who believed in trusting no man more than was absolutely unavoidable.

It must not be thought, from these few details of the training given to the official spies of the German system, that every member of the espionage corps is thus trained. Training such as is detailed here is only for the chief spies, the picked men who accomplish great things; few men could come out satisfactorily from the examinations set to these military and naval spies—few men, that is, of the class from which spies are recruited. The spies at “fixed posts,” for instance, get very little training, since their duties do not involve nearly as much technical work as do those of the travelling members of the fraternity. Since much of the total of about 780,000 pounds per annum known to be distributed among the members of the German secret service (in addition to the probably larger sum of which no records are available) goes to the occupants of these fixed posts, it is obvious that the highly trained spy is in the minority. The highly trained spy, however, forms the nucleus and head of the system—he is a superior officer to the fixed post man or German tutor in a foreign family.

The military and naval branches of the service are controlled by the Great German General Staff, while the diplomatic branch is controlled direct by the German Foreign Office, and, although recruited from among the military and naval branches, is independent of General Staff control.

These divisions of the system must be taken as only approximate, for they interlink and work in and out each other to such an extent that no definite line can be drawn between them as regards actual work. They are all extensions of the plans that Stieber planned, and in all that pertains to the work of German espionage his hand is evident, his work persists, more than twenty years after his death.

Here a word on the influence of Prussian militarism may well be spoken, for the influence of that cast-iron administration is evident even in the organisation of the secret service of Germany. It is now twenty-two years since Stieber passed out from the system, but so unimaginative is the militarist rule of German statecraft that Stieber’s ways have not been improved on. They have been altered in minor details, but the plan has been retained, and, though it may be urged that since Stieber’s system was the most perfect known there was no need to change it, yet the passing of years has revealed many of the details of that system, and it would have been better for Germany if the espionage system had been more flexible, more experimental. Though the very inner workings of Stieber’s system are secrets from ordinary people to this day, they are no secrets from other Governments; the German methods have been copied and improved on by more than one Government, and in some things Germany, which had the only perfect system of espionage in 1870, is actually behind the rest of the world now. For craft has been met with craft, and while the protective measures of other nations have advanced, Germany has stood still.

With regard to matters military, Beyerling emphasises this fully in his book, “Jena or Sedan?” but, of course, no emphasis has been possible in the case of the spy system. Yet evidence is afforded in the trial of Karl Gustav Ernst at Bow Street, to which further reference will be made later, and in many other cases which prove that German spies are known and their methods known to the Governments of other countries, where ample protective measures have been taken. The character of the spy himself is such that changes in the system which controls him are necessary—constant changes—but the mould in which the German mind is shaped is such that this fact has never been sufficiently appreciated, even by the Great German General Staff. The German spy system is still a dangerous organisation, but there are others equally well planned and equally efficient. Had there been another Stieber to take control, Germany might still have had the only perfect system of espionage; but such genius as he displayed only comes once to a people in a century, and a second Stieber has yet to be found in Germany to make its secret service as efficient as in the days when Stieber maintained control.

Chapter Four.

Military Spies.

The German system of military espionage can best be studied by an analysis of the working of the system in France from the year 1870 onwards. So far as the outside world is concerned, the military invasion of France by Germany began at the end of July 1870, but in reality the invasion began in the latter half of 1867, when Stieber, chief of the German secret police, began the placing of his fixed posts throughout the country. No less than 30,000 spies were placed in the departments of Northern and Eastern France, and the feats of this army made possible the work accomplished by Von Moltke.

In his Memoirs Stieber relates how Bismarck, when informed that Jules Favre wished to negotiate for the surrender of Paris in 1871, sent for Stieber and instructed him that Favre was to be kept under observation while negotiations were in progress. Bismarck and Favre met at Versailles, where, on Favre’s arrival, he was escorted to a carriage driven by one of Stieber’s men, and was driven to an establishment on the Boulevard du Roi. This, though Favre was ignorant of the fact, was the headquarters of the German active service police. Favre was courteously received, and presented with a body-servant to whom the highest accomplishments were accredited. The body-servant was none other than Stieber himself.

Favre lodged in this house throughout all the negotiations for the surrender of Paris. So far as Favre knew, the owner of the house was a good Parisian and a resident of Versailles; in reality the place was the headquarters of the German secret-service system, and its owner was one of the fixed spies placed by Stieber before the war began, and thus ready to afford all information with regard to his own district to the German forces on their arrival. For the period of Favre’s stay, Stieber waited on him hand and foot, attending to his meals, to his bedroom and clothing, and performing all the duties of a valet. Under this pretext it was perfectly easy for Stieber to ransack all Favre’s clothing luggage, and personal equipment, and the arch-spy claims in his Memoirs that much of the information he obtained in this way was extremely useful to Bismarck during the negotiations on which the conclusion of peace was based.

Certain proposals made by the Minister of the Interior during this period in which Stieber was at the head of the secret police are worth quoting with regard to the establishment of spies throughout France, subsequent to the war of 1870, in order that strict watch might be kept on the conquered country. The proposals were as follows:

“All the fixed agents must hold not merely salaried positions (that is, in offices, workshops, etc), for they might at any time be dismissed from their posts, and in that case would no longer have any plausible reason for remaining at their points of observation. Such positions, too, possess considerable disadvantage for our agents, in that they restrict their actions and hamper their freedom of going and coming, and bring them too much under notice.

“For these reasons, it must be laid down as a condition of the employment of a spy that he shall be obliged to keep some kind of an establishment, which he may select so long as it is, at least externally, thoroughly in keeping with the commercial or other requirements of the country in which he is engaged. Whatever establishment it be, whether an office for the settlement of disputed claims, or a property register, or a business of a purely commercial land, such as groceries, cafés, restaurants, hotels, etc, it must be soundly established and possess a substantial good-will.

“It must be borne in mind that it is necessary for our agents to inspire confidence in circles where they have their centre of action, and to inspire that confidence by outward indications of a commonplace bourgeois existence; by tactful charity and by making themselves useful in societies, associations, communities, and so forth; and by acquiring strong social positions, so that they may be well received and regarded in all quarters.

“While we must limit the expenditure which our agents are permitted to incur, it is necessary that we should give them absolute assurance that any deficit of the undertaking which they carry on would be made good by the service under the head of general expenses.”

Since the annual expenditure of Germany for work of this kind is admitted to amount to 780,000 pounds a year, it may be gathered that the espionage service is a complete one. The sum stated is admittedly spent; how much more is spent it is impossible to conjecture. The spies placed at fixed posts are given salaries varying between two and four pounds a week according to the importance of the post and the duties which the spy is expected to perform. To this is added any out-of-pocket expenses to which the spy may be put in the maintenance of his business or position. These spies at fixed posts are under the control of headquarters at Brussels, Lausanne, and Geneva, whence their salaries are paid monthly under the form of business remittances. There is also a system of inspectorship by means of which each fixed post is visited at regular intervals, either by women or by professed commercial travellers, who collect the written reports in order to avoid possible inspection of these reports by the French postal authorities. Further, this system admits of instructions being given verbally by the travelling inspector to the spy at each fixed post. At the outbreak of the present war the number of fixed spies known to exist in France was over 15,000.

The recruiting of this army of spies was begun by Stieber in 1870, when he requested that there should be sent, to the fourteen departments of France in which occupation was essential to the success of a German attack, about 4,000 farmers, agricultural labourers, and others who should be permanently employed in the several districts, together with an even larger number of women servants to be placed among the various classes of the French population. These, however, were to receive pay from ordinary French commercial sources, and were to be under the control of the higher grade of spies established in businesses or otherwise independently employed at the fixed posts. The latter were specially chosen from among people of Teutonic origin, not only in Germany, but also in Switzerland and Belgium, whence they were sent to take up their posts after receiving the necessary preliminary training to fit them for their work. The occupant of a fixed post at the present time, whether in France or any other country, is nearly always a German, and has at his beck and call a host of other emigrants from Germany, who are legitimately employed in various capacities, have had no government training, and expect no fixed salary for their work. They are the small fry of the business, and do not come into contact with any higher officials than the fixed agent, who enables them to supplement their legitimate salaries by retailing bits of slander and gossip. The absence of one or more of them would make no difference to the system; as a matter of patriotism, they simply retail what they hear to a fellow-countryman, and, in this sense, every German in a foreign country may be reckoned as a spy, though for official purposes only a certain number of secret-service agents exist.

The recognised agent is placed at some point at which he is able to maintain espionage over a garrison, a military post, or something connected with the defensive or offensive organisation of the country concerned. His business at the outset is to be thoroughly agreeable and make himself well liked in the circle in which he moves. Assuming that he is located in a small garrison town, he sets up a business of some kind which will give him admittance to military circles, and, no matter how bad times may be, his business goes on. In the meantime he contributes unostentatiously to charities, attends all entertainments, and does his best to make himself and his business known in the community of which he is a member. Sooner or later, he makes friends out of one or two of his acquaintances; so far as can be seen he leads a benevolent, open, harmless sort of existence, and is a thoroughly good fellow, and eventually he gains close contact with some member of the garrison, either officer or non-commissioned officer. In the latter case, the spy will take care that the non-commissioned officer is in some position of trust where he is able to obtain useful information.

So far as his friends are concerned, the spy proves to be not entirely ignorant of matters military. He manifests a mild interest in drill, formation of troops, fortifications, guns, etc, but he is not in any way keen over these matters. Like any other inhabitant of the country in which he resides, he is willing to discuss the “shop” matters of his associates, and will even indulge in mild arguments, making mistakes and submitting to correction from those more experienced. Gradually he gets more and more into the confidence of his friends, who, while they reveal nothing of importance, let fall a word here and a word there in his hearing, knowing him to be thoroughly trustworthy; out of these various words a fairly detailed report can be compiled. In the meantime, the small fry of the business are constantly bringing gossip. If a new gun is to be mounted, the spy hears about it; if the strength of the garrison is to be altered, the spy is cognisant of the fact; sooner or later, he gets to know domestic details with regard to the officers of the garrison. A certain lieutenant drinks too much, or a captain is very fond of a hand at cards; in the former case the spy is quite willing to drink level with the lieutenant, and in the latter he is willing to lose money to the captain, such money being put down to special expenses, and accounted for in his monthly statement.

It will be seen that in such simple ways these the fixed agent is able to obtain an immense amount of personal and other information by perfectly simple methods. It may be urged that the greater part of this information could be obtained in legitimate ways and with no expense to the German Government; but the system which Stieber inaugurated is above all things thorough, and there is a system at Berlin of tabulating and card-indexing all information received from fixed posts; of analysing, checking, and comparing, until absolute certainty is reached with regard to the accuracy of detail. For instance, a certain newspaper may announce that the armament of certain fortifications has been increased by a new four-inch gun. A fixed agent will add to this information the position of gun, weight of shell, rate of fire per minute, name of officer in control, and the fact that it is mounted on a disappearing platform—details which are noted and checked with a view to their possible usefulness in the future. The extent of this usefulness may be estimated when the fall of Namur or Maubeuge is recalled. The officers in control of the attacking German batteries knew exactly how many guns they had to silence, the position, bore, and rate of fire of these guns, and the points at which their own batteries could best be placed, with a view to fire effect and invisibility. In the case of Maubeuge they knew more: they knew where to find the necessary concrete platforms on which to place their own heavy artillery, in order to silence the French guns—and this must be attributed to the development of the system of fixed posts.

Not only does the Great German General Staff know details of fortifications and technical matters, but it is also kept posted up in the character and abilities of officers who come under the observation of the fixed agent. Reports sent in to headquarters are concerned with personal peculiarities and scandals to an extent undreamed of by the persons concerned. If any officer is open to bribery, the fact is ascertained; if any officer’s wife is open to blackmail, the blackmail is instituted, and the price of silence in every case is information with regard to matters of which the husband is cognisant. Further, the topographical information supplied includes details of the nature and state of roads, telegraphs, bridges, depths of rivers and streams, positions of fords, nature and condition of every building and farm, supplies of forage and food, horses available, and every detail which is likely to be of service. The ordnance-maps supplied to German officers are marvels of map-making; every insignificant cottage, stile, clump of trees, and peculiarity of the landscape is indicated, and, by the use of maps of this kind, the march on Paris in 1870 was carried through without a hitch.

In like manner, all preparations for the Prussian advance through Belgium, and the projected victorious march on Paris, were made and completed years ago, with the assistance of the fixed agents. The German entry into Brussels, when 700,000 men marched through a strange city without the slightest confusion, has been described as a triumph of organisation. This it undoubtedly was; but the credit did not lie with the military commander, for the agents who had been busy through many months preparing the way of the army were responsible for that army’s successful advance. Officers had only to follow detailed instructions presented to them by headquarters.

With equal care the entry to Paris was planned: quarters were assigned to each regiment of the invading army; each officer knew exactly the part that would be his in the spectacle, and every step of the entry to the French capital had been arranged in detail by German fixed agents, who had resided for many years in Northern France, and in Paris itself, as peaceful citizens. Reports of German occupation of French towns and even photographs from the theatre of war draw attention to various houses on which has been chalked—“Spare this house.” In many cases, doubtless, this is intended as a return for unexpectedly hospitable reception, but in many other cases it indicates that the house in question was the residence of a fixed agent, to whom German officers came on their entry to the place in order to learn all that was possible with regard to resources of the town or village, and all that could be told of the movements of the enemy.

It has been urged, and with apparent reason, that the value of espionage ceases as soon as armies take the field, since the work of the spy can only concern preparations for hostilities, and, when war has begun, actual strength decides the issue. This, however, is not the case when German military espionage is in question; in many cases the fixed agents have been so long established at their posts that they rank in the eyes of normal inhabitants as a part of the life of the place, and, by maintaining their positions, they are able to ascertain for the benefit of their own commanders particulars of the dispositions of hostile forces. Elaborate systems of signalling are in use; carrier pigeons are used, but only to a limited extent; the ways of the Red Indians, who made the most perfect spies ever known, are copied in indicating events by the movement of stones, chipping of bark on trees, breaking branches, and other ways little likely to be detected, while the more civilised method of lamp-signalling is also practised. Altogether, the German military spy forms a very efficient and formidable part of the German military force, both before and after the opening of hostilities. His value decreases to a certain extent when action has been entered on, and, in a definite battle like those along the line of the Meuse and the line of the Aisne, he is practically useless, but in case of an advance on the part of the German forces he is invaluable, by reason of the information he can give with regard to the nature of the country and the dispositions of the retreating army.

Chapter Five.

Naval Espionage.

The routine of naval espionage is very similar in character to that followed by military spies. The naval spy, however, must be a rather more intelligent and highly trained man than his military confrère, and cases that have come to light prove that his position is one of more responsibility, and that he is entrusted with more funds for the carrying out of his work. It is an interesting fact that, for many years past, officers and men of the German naval service have been employed along the East coast of England in compiling extremely detailed plans of places and fortifications. The accuracy of these plans is ascertained by persistent redrawing done by new members of the naval espionage staff, and all changes in building, roadmaking, bridge-construction, and as far as possible the interior work of fortifications, are duly recorded on the Berlin maps. Not that this information is of definite working value at the present time, but the principle of secret-service headquarters is that no item is too trivial for record, and information is acquired without regard to its direct uses, but in view of the fact that it may possibly be of some use at a future date. The adoption of such a principle involves an immense amount of work in checking and sorting the masses of information obtained, but beyond doubt the principle itself has gone far to assure such successes as German arms have obtained, either on land or at sea.

In addition to the work of fixed naval posts, stationed at dockyards and harbours, the work of spies at sea must not be overlooked, either in time of peace or in war. In the former case an innocent-looking trawler or private yacht is useful for taking soundings, ascertaining channels, and even locating naval mines used for purposes of harbour defence and fired by land contact. In time of war the services which may be performed by such vessels are even more valuable; the reports of the sinking of three British cruisers by German submarine attack are fairly unanimous with regard to the presence of a trawler in the vicinity of the spot at which the engagement took place. All that can be definitely learned with regard to this trawler is that she was not a British boat, and it is reasonable to assume that her business consisted in signalling to the submarines particulars which they may have been unable to obtain themselves, or in shielding them from sight during their approach towards the cruisers. Although there are no substantial proofs of this assumption, it is hardly likely that the vessel was a trawler engaged in usual and legitimate business.

The work of the naval spy in time of peace is best illustrated by the record of cases which have actually come to light through actions taken in the courts. One noteworthy case is that of Sub-Lieutenant Ullmo, a gifted naval officer of the French service, serving in the Republican warship Carabine. Ullmo was an officer of undoubted ability, but he came under the influence of a female spy, known to him and his fellows as Lison, who persuaded him to set up an establishment for her and managed to secure his assent to a plan by which this establishment, maintained at his expense, was to be converted into an opium-den. So great an ascendancy did Lison gain over her victim that in a period of two years he had spent 3,000 pounds, which was all that was his in the way of capital and income apart from his pay. His position in the service rendered money a necessity, and, once his private fortune was gone, Lison pointed out to him that more money could be obtained. As soon as she spoke of the means by which he could obtain money he repudiated the suggestion, but, by working on his jealousy with regard to her acquaintance with a brother officer, she secured his consent to a bargain by which he was to give up the secret documents kept in a safe on board his ship, in return for a price which was fixed at more than ten times his previous competence. The bargain was to be arranged by the medium of advertisements, and it was through the wording of these advertisements that the plot was detected by the French secret service. Ullmo’s reward for his treachery was degradation from his rank and imprisonment for life, and Lison put in an appearance at his trial in order to watch the proceedings as an uninterested spectator.

The system of counter-espionage thus evidenced on the part of a foreign Government has its counterpart in the British service. Since Britain is the most powerful enemy Germany has to fear in a naval sense, it follows that German naval espionage is principally directed against Britain, and that the establishment of naval spies is greater in this country than in any other. It is safe to say, however, that the majority of the fixed posts of the German naval service in Britain are known to the police, and that, as soon as information which, in the opinion of the British naval authorities, is of value, is in danger of being communicated to Germany, action is taken to prevent the transmission of the spies’ reports to headquarters. A case in point is that of Doctor Max Schulz, who, charged with espionage at Devon Assizes, was sentenced to a year and nine months’ imprisonment for acts attempted rather than acts committed.

According to his own account, Schulz became implicated in the work of the military branch of the German secret service in 1910, when he was engaged to obtain reports about British military and naval affairs for statistical purposes. Although no more was said, there can be no doubt that Schulz realised quite well the nature of the work he was undertaking, especially as, on the evidence of Sir Rufus Isaacs, who prosecuted at the trial, he was able to offer 500 pounds a year to a British subject for continuous information of a confidential character. He began his career as a spy by ineffectual work in Ireland, following up this by a visit to Toulon, still in search of information. After various adventures, he returned in 1911 to Plymouth, and thence went for a trip up the River Yealm on a yacht called the Egret; here, according to the evidence of Crown witnesses for the prosecution, he was visited by a Mr Duff and a Mr Tarrant, to whom he made overtures with regard to the obtaining of information concerning naval matters.

The charges against Schulz, as outlined by the Attorney-General in opening the case, were four in number. The first charge was that, in the summer of 1911: “He, at the borough of Plymouth, having possession or control over knowledge which had been obtained by means of an act which constituted an offence against the Official Secrets Act, communicated or attempted to communicate the same to a person to whom the same ought not in the interest of the State to be communicated at the time.” The second charge amplified the first in that Schulz was accused of having intended to communicate his illegally gained knowledge to the Government of a foreign State. The third and fourth counts against him were that he had “endeavoured to procure Samuel Hugh Duff and Edward Charles Tarrant respectively to communicate to him information relating to the naval affairs of His Majesty which ought not in the interests of the State to be communicated to any person.”

Sir Rufus Isaacs stated, in his outline of the case for the prosecution, that Schulz had offered Duff a salary of 500 pounds a year, with a possibility of this sum being doubled, for confidential information. Schulz alleged that the confidential information in question would be published in a German newspaper, but, at the time of Schulz’s arrest, there had been found in his possession a letter which proved the purpose for which the information was required. One passage of the letter which was read in court is enlightening as regards the detailed information required of German naval spies. The passage is as follows:

“How do matters stand with the commander and lieutenant respectively? Can nothing at all be expected from them? Reserve officers are no use. They do not procure any valuable secrets because they do not have access to them. Confidential books and reports are what is wanted, and what you must procure at all costs if our relations are to continue.”

Sir Rufus Isaacs stated, and the evidence proved, that a man named Tobler, who did not visit England, kept Schulz supplied with money. A number of telegrams were produced, written in code, of which the prosecution had found the key. The deciphered telegrams read: “In greatest danger. Wire immediately 50 pounds.”

“In greater trouble and danger. All prepared for departure. Wire immediately 50 pounds and date of meeting.” Instructions from Tobler to Schulz included a list of questions which Schulz was to put to Mr Duff, and the list included the following:

I. Are officers or men granted leave, or have those on leave possibly been recalled?

II. Is there any sign of coals, stores, ammunition, etc, being accumulated?

III. What is the feeling in naval circles?

IV. How do officers and men discuss the situation?

V. Are crews being increased, are ships being prepared, or has commissioning of ships suddenly taken place?

These questions, the Attorney-General pointed out, were intended as tests for Mr Duff. Other questions, put apparently with more serious intent, included the following:

I. What is the opinion of officers of the British Navy as to the result of war between England and France, on the one hand, and Germany on the other, and the likelihood of the same over the Morocco question?

II. What ships of the Third Division were put out of service on July 23, or about the end of July, or have reduced their crews, and the reasons for so doing?

III. How many officers and men are still on board, and why was the programme altered after it was stated that the Third Division should be full up?

Before answering these questions Mr Duff communicated with the police, and it was stated in the initial proceedings against Schulz that, if British people usually acted in the way that Mr Duff and Mr Tarrant had done, and in the way that Detective-Sergeant Martin, whom they consulted, had acted, England would have nothing to fear from any system of espionage.

The evidence given by Mr Tarrant went to show that Schulz had offered him a salary of 50 pounds a month for acting as “Military and Naval Correspondent” to a German paper, for which Schulz was to act as agent and intermediary. The only defence set up was to the effect that Schulz was a bona-fide journalist, and had no ulterior motive in attempting to obtain information. The Tobler correspondence was too strong evidence to the contrary, and the well-merited sentence of a year and nine months’ imprisonment in the second division was imposed. It is characteristic of the German spy system that, after his release from jail, Schulz was disowned by his previous employers.

Later cases, like that of Ernst, to which reference will be made later, go to prove that both in England and France a system of counter-espionage has been organised, which goes far to neutralise such efforts as that detailed above. So persistent is the German thirst for information that one man who came into the British courts as defendant had actually received payment from German sources for information which he was virtually proved to have obtained from Whittaker’s almanac and like sources. This, however, only goes to show that the object of the German secret service is to check such information as it may receive, by means of duplicate and triplicate reports.

There is little likelihood of the system of German naval espionage having any definite effect in England until an invasion has been successfully accomplished, for there is a wide difference between learning the strength of a coast defence and overcoming that defence. Both in naval and military matters, also, the plan has long since been adopted of changing orders at irregular intervals, so that, in case of active service requirements, the strength and dispositions of the forces vary from month to month and even from week to week. Signal and telegraphic codes are changed, routine is altered, and, altogether, such differences are effected in various ways that information supplied by spies one week may be quite valueless the next. Not that it is advisable to underrate the spy peril or the value of the German system, but at the same time it is equally unwise to overrate the possibilities of the system. Were another Stieber forthcoming, Germany might yet accomplish all that it set out to do with the assistance of its secret service; but, under present conditions, such success is extremely unlikely.

Chapter Six.

Diplomatic Espionage.

The way in which Stieber, as body-servant to Jules Favre, was able to assist in the negotiations for the surrender of Paris in 1870 has already been detailed, and this forms a fair sample of what can be done in the way of diplomatic espionage, as distinctly apart from the gaining of purely military information or details of a definite naval character. But it is only one instance; the spy in the employ of the German Foreign Office is capable of making himself useful in many ways, and into this class of work also the influence of women enters to a very large extent.

The woman spy of fiction, though not absolutely a myth, is very rare indeed. The siren of beauty and wit, mysterious as she is fascinating, makes a very pretty picture for a sensational melodrama; but it must be fairly obvious, on reflection, that she would defeat her own ends by the very mystery that is popularly supposed to surround her. Further, diplomats entrusted with confidential and delicate tasks are hard-headed men of the world, capable of seeing through the wiles of such dames of mystery as the fiction-writer would have us believe in, existing in the highest society and able to subjugate a man by a glance. A story has recently been told to the effect that one of these charming adventuresses was able to spoil the work of no less a person than a Russian Ambassador, the said Ambassador being a man of mature years and such judgment as one would expect in the holder of the power that he represented. The spy alleged that the lady in question was able by her charms to throw the Ambassador entirely off his guard, so that his mission was spoiled and he incurred imperial displeasure and lost his post.

It is a pretty story, and would pass well as an effort of imagination; the only trouble is that the alleged confessions of the spy include this pretty story as truth, which it most distinctly is not. The affairs of nations are not conducted in such a manner as this, for there is sufficient wisdom in the various Courts of Europe to recognise the existence of all dangers, and to impose on their representatives such safeguards as shall neutralise the attempts that may be made at spoiling treaties and sowing discord by means of pretty women and susceptible men. The reason for the telling of such stories lies in their being extremely plausible, extremely attractive, and extremely saleable.

Real diplomatic spying is a much more sordid and much meaner business than the fiction-writer places before his or her readers. It consists in listening at doors, reading and replacing letters, and tricks of the kind which would be perfectly obvious if the person spying were not so thoroughly trustworthy—to outside appearance. The diplomatic spy may be a servant, a military attaché, a courier in the ostensible service of a Government—he may be anything, but always he is a supremely trustworthy person, one who has no need to conceal the fact that he is highly intelligent and well fitted for his post, whatever that may be. His reputation among the people with whom he is brought in contact may be and usually is a matter of years’ standing, for only the absolute assurance of his honesty enables him to carry on his work.

It is the recognised duty of all ambassadors, military and naval attachés, and consuls, to collect information in any possible way, and to pay for it, and it may be guessed that their staff of informers is a large one. Further, under the heading of diplomatic spies must be included the internal espionage of Germany, by means of which all the various members of the Royal Family at Berlin are kept under surveillance and reported on. Potsdam neglects nothing in this way, as the Memoirs of Louise of Saxony prove beyond dispute.

Some time ago the head official of the system of internal espionage in Germany was exposed at the height of his success, and thus an idea of the actual working and extent of the system was rendered obtainable. The person in question, Colonel Baron von Tausch, established on his own account a bureau d’espionage, and carried his investigations to such a point that the Minister of Foreign Affairs, after having made representations to the Kaiser, took action against Von Tausch for libel and conspiracy.

From evidence made public at the trial it appeared that Von Tausch, who wished to obtain information for his master with regard to the nationalist movement in Prussian Poland, had ordered Baron von Luetzow to win the affections of the daughter of a Polish noble who was in the front of the nationalist movement, and, by this means, to gain the confidence of the girl’s father. Luetzow complied, won the heart of the girl and the confidence of her father, and then returned to Berlin, leaving the girl behind. This was one instance of the methods used to obtain information.

Correspondence, produced in court, introduced into the case the name of Count Philip zu Eulenberg, sometime German Ambassador at Vienna. Eulenberg, one of the boy-friends of the Kaiser, developed into a moral degenerate, and the whole of the Berlin Court—at least, all that part of it which had the best interests of the Kaiser and the Empire at heart—deplored the retention of Eulenberg in the imperial favour. In 1907 Eulenberg’s degeneracy was exposed by Maximilian Harden, editor of Die Zukunft, who was prosecuted for his audacity in attacking one of the Emperor’s friends, and forced the prosecution to withdraw by stating that he had enough correspondence in his possession to ruin the reputations of members of the Imperial family and half the officers of the Imperial Guards.

The correspondence produced at Von Tausch’s trial was chiefly noteworthy for a letter addressed by the chief of the secret police to Eulenberg, in which the former claimed that he had successfully accomplished espionage work which, he hoped, would have the effect of mining the Foreign Minister for good. Shortly after, as evidence showed, Eulenberg sent to Von Tausch the ribbon of a high Austrian Order which had been presented by the Austrian Government, evidently as recognition of services performed in connection with the German Foreign Minister.