We know, from official sources, that in spite of all the foolish self-congratulation of Mr. McKenna and his friends—who are "getting on" towards Birthday Honours,—and his attempt to gag the Globe, there are some 27,000 alien enemies still at large in Great Britain, and upon their activities on their country's behalf, until recently our only check was the shadowy form of "registration" that we have adopted. Even many of those interned are now being released upon bonds being given by responsible citizens.
Unfortunately, anyone who ventures to suggest that these people—whose bonds may be signed by persons in German pay—may constitute a very serious danger, is at once branded, officially, as an alarmist, and accused of attempting to manufacture a "spy scare," whatever official optimists may mean by that term.
I am no alarmist, and the last thing I should wish to see in our country would be a scare of any description. But as I have, for so many years, made a special study of the spy question, as the evidence I was able to lay before the Government caused the establishment of our anti-espionage precautions, I think, without undue egotism, I may claim to know something about the matter. I should have remained silent unless I had been absolutely convinced that there is still a very real and very grave peril of espionage owing to our supineness in this matter of aliens living here practically uncontrolled, and certainly owing to their great numbers not being under anything like effective supervision.
The popular idea of the spy still seems to be that he is, invariably, an individual sent specially from Germany to wander about this country picking up such scraps of information as he can. There could be no more dangerous delusion. The Germans are far too acute to trust to such methods; they know a great deal too much about the science of espionage to dream of thinking that foreigners sent hap-hazard into this country—obviously strangers and, therefore, most likely to invite attention—are likely to be able to carry out safely the difficult and dangerous work of espionage. Their secret agents are chosen, invariably, with the utmost care and method.
The "foreign" spy is not the worst peril; the real danger comes from those who, for years, have made their homes among us, who have married Englishwomen, and have become so familiar to their neighbours that they are in little or no danger of being under the slightest suspicion. This has been proved over and over again, both here and in France, during the present war.
The case of the barber Ernst was a good instance. This man had carried on business at the same shop for sixteen years, and we can be quite sure that the last thing his neighbours thought of him was that he was a spy in German pay! No. He was a good Englishman like the rest of us. Yet, it was shown that he was a secret agent of the most dangerous character, and even worthy of a personal visit from the great and distinguished Steinhauer himself!
Now I hope that the many who have read my books over the last twenty years will at least believe that I am one of the last men to be suspected of any desire to belittle my own countrymen. I am simply an Englishman who has tried to interest them. To-day I point a peril to each and all of my million readers. But I wish to make it quite clear that nothing I say in this connection should be taken as reflecting on the work of our Confidential Department—a department which has done magnificently and which in every way I respect. They have matched brains against brains, and cunning against cunning, and the balance of the account is decidedly in their favour. They have, indeed, fooled Steinhauer's agents all through—examined their correspondence and their reports, tracked the agents down by the information thus gained, arrested a large number of them, and to a very great extent smashed the organisation in its original form. So much I cheerfully admit, and congratulate them heartily upon their success. My point is that the work has not gone far enough, that what they have done has not been adequately supplemented, that much yet remains to be done before we can assume that a reasonable degree of security has been attained.
On October 8th last, a very important statement was issued by the Home Secretary, describing the steps that had been taken "to deal with the system of espionage on which Germany has placed so much reliance." I have shown elsewhere how the Confidential Department came into being, and how it was able to "discover the ramifications of the German Secret Service in England." In this statement Mr. McKenna says:—
The agents ... were watched and shadowed without in general taking any hostile action or allowing them to know that their movements were watched. When, however, any actual step was taken to convey documents or plans of importance from this country to Germany, the spy was arrested, and in such cases evidence sufficient to secure his conviction was usually found in his possession.
Proceedings under the Official Secrets Act were taken by the Director of Public Prosecutions, and in six cases sentences were passed varying from eighteen months to six years' penal servitude. At the same time steps were taken to mark down and keep under observation all the agents known to have been engaged in this traffic, so that when any necessity arose the police might lay hands upon them at once; and accordingly on August 4th, before the declaration of war, instructions were given by the Home Secretary for the arrest of twenty known spies, and all were arrested.
This figure, it is added, does not cover over two hundred who were under suspicion or noted to be kept under special observation, the great majority of whom were interned at, or soon after, the declaration of war.