It seems that a woman had just called me on the telephone and the Inspector, hurrying to the wire, pretended that he was I and tried to learn something.
He then ordered his men to search me and seemed amazed when they couldn't find any six shooters, daggers or bombs. I was taken back to my room and there he began going through my effects, and bundling them up. I knew I was up against it; but I wasn't going to make it any easier for them. I requested Mr. Morris, then manager of the hotel, and another witness to be called into my room. These gentlemen were kind enough to put down on paper a description of all my effects that were being taken away by the police. I was extremely careful to see that they noted and described all papers and written matters of any kind. There are often produced in court documents that are not found on a Secret Service agent at the time of his arrest. Inspector French--I recall him as an uncouth, illiterate bungler who subsequently tried to get a lot of publicity out of my arrest as if he himself had detected the whole concern, instead of having it thrust under his nose by the London chemical company--was preparing to ride over me roughshod. I insisted that he read the warrant for my arrest and with much grumbling he finally did so. It had been issued under the Official Secret Act that had been rushed through the House of Commons. I was charged with endangering the safeguards of the British Empire.
I spent the night in the Glasgow City Prison, and was taken the next day before a magistrate and formally committed to a sheriff's court. On July 12 my case came up before the Sheriff's court. Waiving preliminary examination, I was committed for trial to the Edinburgh High Court. It is significant that the extreme length of a committal without trial under British law is one hundred and five calendar days, which hundred and five days up to the last minute I certainly waited. They were trying to find out my antecedents but they did not succeed.
A letter from the Lord Provost informed me that all material for my defense should be in his hands a day before the trial. I had no defense. I neither denied nor admitted anything. I replied to his Lordship that as I was unaware of any offense there was no need of any defense. My attitude was a profound puzzle--which was as I wanted.
If you care to look over the back files of the English and Scottish newspapers of the time you will read that my trial was "the most sensational court procedure ever held in a Scottish court of justice."
Now I shall reveal every circumstance of it. For the first time I shall explain how, why and by whom I was secretly released. Until I revealed myself in the United States, even the German Foreign Office thought me in jail.
Against me the crown had summoned forty-five witnesses. They included admirals, colonels, captains, military and naval experts, post office officials--I cannot recall all. The press from all parts of Europe--for all Europe was vitally concerned in this trial--was represented. My memory shows me again the crowds that packed the big supreme court building at Edinburgh on the first day of the proceedings. The imposing names connected with the trial, the strange circumstances, a spy, moreover a German!--These things brought the excitement to fever heat.
Presiding was the Lord Justice of Scotland, himself no mean expert in military matters. The Solicitor General of Scotland, A. M. Anderson, who prosecuted for the crown, was supported by G. Morton, Advocate Deputy. The government had indeed an imposing array of bewigged, black-gowned, legal notables marshaled against me.
Those familiar with English court procedure know the impressive manner with which justice is dispensed. Punctually at ten on the morning of July 22, 1912, my trial opened. Clad in his royal red robe with the ermine collar of supreme justice, the Lord Justice entered the court. Before him walked a mace bearer, intoning "Gentlemen, the Lord Justice! Gentlemen, the Court!" After the impressive ceremonies had been observed, the jury was quickly empaneled, I making several challenges. Twelve years in the Secret Service naturally has made me know something of men. I knew that those twelve hard-headed, cautious Scottish jurymen would demand pretty substantial proof before convicting. At the time I am frank to say that I did not think there was a chance of a verdict of guilty being brought in. The evidence against me was too vague.
Expressing astonishment at my refusal to accept counsel--which was subsequently forced on me--His Lordship promised to guard my interest on legal points; and guard it he did. Repeatedly he ruled against the Solicitor General and challenged him on more than one point. I am frank in my admiration of British justice. My trial was a model of fairness.