German Spies in England: An Exposure

by William Le Queux

Arrests were made in a number of cases, and in many others information was secured which bore prompt fruit when war was declared, and over two hundred of the "master-spy's" tools were captured in different parts of the country and interned.

It is, however, beyond doubt that many of this man's agents, of greater or less influence or ability, are to-day still at liberty, and there is no doubt either that many have come over in the guise of Belgian refugees; that, indeed, has been officially admitted. Of course, they are now working under enormously greater difficulties in getting information, owing to the increased severity of the watch kept at all places of importance. And even to send it away when they have got it is not easy, though no doubt it is arranged, through Italy, Denmark, or Scandinavia.

Here is an instance reported by me to the authorities, as I considered it full of suspicion. Among the thousands of Belgian refugees arriving in England just before the fall of Antwerp—a city infested by German spies—there came among us a certain priest, with four other male companions. The priest explained to the Relief Committee which received him, that he was head of a certain college in Belgium. He and his companions were, at their own request, passed on to a provincial Relief Committee. There the priest's penurious position naturally aroused much sympathy, and he and his companions were put into a good-sized house, given money for their maintenance, and petted by many charitable persons.

The five were free to take observations in and around the place where they were domiciled. That our enemy would be glad of any details regarding it there can be no doubt. Then, of a sudden—in the first days of January—the priest, to the surprise of the Committee, announced the fact that as he had received a letter from the Cardinal Archbishop of his diocese, stating that many of his old pupils had returned, he must leave at once for home with two of his companions. One of the latter declared that he had to go to "look after his cows"—as though the Germans would have left him any cows! When questioned, the priest admitted that he held monies of the college which he must hand over. To say the least, their behaviour was highly suspicious.

By some persons who became acquainted with this curious request the matter was viewed with considerable suspicion. There seemed no urgent reason why the refugees in question should return, for their excuses, when challenged, were of the flimsiest character. However, they were able to obtain a sum of money, which went towards their travelling expenses.

I at once went to the proper authorities—with the usual result. Officials "got busy" scribbling reports and writing polite "acknowledgments," but nothing was done, and the priest and his friends were allowed to cross to Flushing unmolested on January 5th.

But while it may be true that the main spy organisation has been partially broken up—as Mr. McKenna would have us believe—it should not be supposed, by any means, that the peril is at an end. Letters can still be smuggled out of the country. To test this, I myself have communicated with friends in Germany since the war by sending my letters to Italy, where they were re-addressed, and replies have come by the same means. Signals can, and are still, undoubtedly being made to German submarines lying within easy distance of our East Coast. And there can be no doubt that the stream of secret German gold, part of the £720,000 a year, has, alas! done its work all too well in inducing at least a few renegade Englishmen to betray their country. This thought leaves a nasty taste in one's mouth, but there are black sheep in all nations, and the black sheep of this kind are the master-spy's most precious instruments. Very few of them, fortunately or unfortunately, as we may choose to think, have been discovered; but an example was made of one—the ex-naval gunner, Parrott—who, perhaps, was one of the worst examples.

Much organising of the actual work of espionage in England is believed to have been carried on by Count von der Schulenberg, who was recently appointed Governor of Liége. A very interesting account of his clever methods was published by the Daily Mail soon after his appointment was announced. Von der Schulenberg belongs to what is, unquestionably, the most dangerous type of spy—the monied man of good family, of a certain culture, enjoying the friendship of people in the better ranks of life, and above all, able to plead many hobbies to account for his presence in this country. We have many of a similar sort in our midst, posing as naturalised persons.

It was in 1909 that Schulenberg—whom I met at the Hotel Cecil, where I was living—first settled in England. He took a flat in Jermyn Street, where he spent a considerable time, probably in the work of familiarising himself with the ramifications of the German spy system in this country. He became well known among the German colony in the West End, and he was in the habit of spending considerable periods on some mysterious errands; at any rate he often disappeared for days from his favourite haunts.