SHADOWED BY POLICE
POSING AS A JOURNALIST--CREDENTIALS--SUBTLE
SUGGESTIONS--SUSPICIONS--A FALLEN STAR--SOLD TO THE
POLICE--INSTINCTIVE WARNINGS--TEMPTATIONS--INTERCEPTED
ADULATIONS--A SERIOUS BLOW--TESTS--DANGER SIGNALS--FLIGHT--HERR
SCHMIDT--DOUBLE TRACKING--ARREST WARRANT POSTPONED.
Most people who interest themselves in the detailed working of Secret
Service show greatest curiosity regarding the actual characters assumed
by its members when in foreign countries.
A Secret Service agent should never assume a character he is not
absolutely familiar with, both inside and out. It is possible to act up
to a certain pitch, which will carry a certain distance, but
artificiality is never safe. The stunt that is most in favour with the
Intelligence Departments of all nations is journalism; thus it has been
worked threadbare. Every foreign newspaper man on the Continent in
recent years has been suspected, marked, and watched from the start,
simply because he is what he is and for no other reason. I was never
warned of this, but it did not take me long to find it out. I fell into
the _rôle_ on my second trip out and adopted it naturally. I had been a
free-lance journalist for upwards of twenty years, and I concluded that
I could assume the character of special correspondent without any
anxiety, and that I would be received for what I was. I had previously
posed in many characters which were not so aptly fitted, and I believed
I had carried them through successfully. This would be child's play to
an old hand; besides, it had been part of my livelihood and was no
assumed _rôle_, it was merely acting as one's self. One of the best,
most influential and respected newspapers in London was therefore
approached. I was no stranger to its editor, who received me with
cordiality and gave me the necessary credentials.
In order to supplement my London references I sought for and easily
obtained a further commission from the head editor of a series of
country daily and weekly issues. A passport carried the announcement
that I was a journalist, and everything appeared to be in order.
On arrival abroad, in the first country to which my work was allotted,
as a special journalist I made application to the head Transmission
Department to bespeak a legitimation card, which added an additional
official stamp to my papers.
No one could have been more helpful or sympathetic than the Transmission
Department officials, but in this particular instance it subsequently
transpired they took copies of my credentials, which they handed over to
the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department. Of course, I knew
nothing of this at the time, although it would not in any way have
disturbed my equanimity or peace of mind if I had.
A chief superintendent, whom I had to interview, was exceptionally kind.
He strictly adhered to his duty to his country, but the leaning of his
sympathies he appeared absolutely unable to restrain. "Your paper," he
said, "is a power in Europe. It is always fair, impartial, and reliable.
Many of my countrymen read it, and we know that it does not exaggerate
the true facts. I respect it, my colleagues respect it, although they
might not say so, and you may rely upon all the help I can give you. You
must remember, however, the position we are placed in. You must be
careful not to offend against our recently passed laws or you will not
get your messages through. Also, you may be misunderstood." I thanked
him and sought further enlightenment. I guessed what he was hinting at,
but I wished to draw out of the man all he was willing to disclose.
"You know," the superintendent continued, "that you must not use our
wires, either telephone or telegraph, to report movement of any ships of
foreign nations which are at war. Our instructions are very strict upon
this point. We must carry out our duties to the utmost. But these
Germans! They are not men, they are mad dogs. Their idea of war seems to
be extermination without regard to the law of nations. They murder women
and children; they seem to have no feelings. They would overrun our
small country to-morrow if they thought any advantage could be gained
thereby. Alas, poor innocent, unoffending Belgium, whom they undertook
by honourable treaty to protect and uphold! How they have ruined her,
burned her towns, ravaged her entire country, raped her daughters,
robbed her churches and treasures; and, on top of all, fined her
inhabitants for not returning to be made slaves to oppressors and brutal
taskmasters. 'Vengeance is mine,' saith the Lord. If they do not suffer
for all this, then there is no justice on earth or in heaven above." We
were alone in his private office. Before speaking he had carefully
closed the door, having first looked anxiously into the outer office.
Now he turned to me and, extending both hands, added: "Reading these
things, hearing of them from eye-witnesses, hearing even worse in detail
which made my flesh creep, can you wonder that we, a peace-loving
people, who never did like those overbearing Germans, pray for the day
when they will find their level in the world and when they will be
compelled to behave like decent-minded people?"
I cordially agreed, and inquired what my loquacious friend was leading
up to.
"You have a Press Censor in your country, I presume?"--"Yes." "If he saw
in the course of his duties anything which he thought might be of
advantage to your Government, or to its naval administrators, to know, I
suppose he would at once cause it to be sent along?" "Really, my dear
sir," I interjected, "I have no knowledge of what our Censor does. I
know he's an awful nuisance to us newspaper men; he holds up our copy
for indefinite periods. But I, like yourself, assume he is an
Englishman." And I looked him square in the face and wondered whether he
would guess what I certainly had no intention of admitting. "Good!" he
exclaimed. "Now, in this country our newspaper men get round our
regulations by using simple little codes, which in their wording refer
to things domestic, but in reality can be translated into something
very, very different. For example, 'Mrs. Jones of ---- has just had
twins; one is strong, the other very weak and not expected to live,'
might easily be arranged to convey the interpretation that a couple of
German submarines had entered the port of ----, one of which was a
damaged condition. I expect your paper would like to have such items of
news? Even if it were not allowed to publish it, your Censor might like
to have the news to hand along. Such a message, worded as I suggest,
would not offend against our rules and regulations. We should accept it,
not knowing or caring for any possible hidden meaning. Do you
understand, my dear sir, what I want to convey?"
Wondering at the back of my mind whether he was just sounding me, or
whether he was so truly sympathetic with the Allies that he was really
anxious to help stop the war as soon as possible, I followed the wise
course of terminating the interview. After thanking the superintendent
for his kind assistance and sympathy I left.
It is an unwritten rule of the Secret Service never to give anything
away unless it is imperative so to do, or a more than commensurate
advantage is gained thereby.
It is an unwritten rule of the same Service to keep away from all
Government officials, irrespective of nationality, in so far as one
reasonably can.
In spite of the deadly earnestness of the gentleman I had just left, I
felt puzzled. I did not understand his voluntary and unnecessary
outburst of outraged sentiment. Instinct told me that somewhere there
was something moving which I must guard against. What it was, or from
which quarter I was to expect it, I had no idea.
In the Secret Service one must paddle one's own canoe, alone and
unassisted; always up-stream; always through dangerous rapids, wherein
at every yard are hidden rocks and snags ready to tear the frail craft
asunder; always through countries overrun with enemies armed with
poisonous arrows which are fired singly and in volleys whenever the
smallest opportunity is given; always hunted and stalked both day and
night by the most persevering, cunning, and desperate huntsmen in the
world; always on the move, with never a sure, safe, or secure
resting-place for one's weary limbs; and always on the _qui vive_
against a thousand and one unseen, unknown, and unsuspected dangers. No
wonder that members of this Service so soon become fatalists.
A few days later I was closeted with a local journalist out of collar.
He wanted a job. He spoke six languages, had had smooth and rough
experiences in America, and was a man of great ability. His weak spot
was alcohol. He had had chances innumerable. Friends had helped him
until their patience had been exhausted. Now that his domestic ship was
badly on the rocks, the whole family half-starved, and himself a total
abstainer--by force of circumstances--another last chance seemed to his
unfortunate wife to fall as the blessed manna from heaven in the
wilderness. I treated him generously and trusted him--as far as I could
have trusted any ordinary person--but he, an ordinary mortal of this
proverbially ungrateful world, at once sold his benefactor to a higher
bidder, in so far as it was possible for him so to do. It happened
thus-wise.
Not satisfied with the liberal terms I had agreed to give him, which
covered full travelling expenses, living expenses and remuneration
separately assessed, he approached various carrying firms and tried to
wheedle from them free passes. Meeting with no sympathy--probably they
knew him by former experience--he visited the police and sold me over to
them as an alleged spy. Naturally the police wanted evidence. This the
man undertook to get. He made excuse after excuse to delay his departure
on my business. He visited me daily with a long list of questions; he
suggested the obtaining of information concerning local naval and
military intelligence which did not interest me in the least; he pressed
for written instructions, special codes, and complicated arrangements
regulating the sending and receiving of correspondence--anything, in
fact, which would gain him time and which might prove my undoing--all
of which, however, I suggested he should prepare himself if he wanted
them.
The man's testimonials were excellent upon all points excepting the one
weakness before referred to, and I treated him quite unsuspectingly.
Little did I know that when he made notes in shorthand they were in fact
literal and verbatim reports of our entire conversation, made at the
suggestion of the police and for their special benefit. I afterwards
heard that detectives had helped to prepare the very code he brought to
me and which he was so eager for me to substitute for one I had
suggested.
Had I been indiscreet, and had I given anything at all away, or had I
trusted this man with any facts relating to or concerning those
connected with my real employment, I would have been arrested on the
spot. As it was, the police learned nothing which did not appear to them
legitimate, in order, and most flattering to their country, to their
countrymen, and to themselves.
Remarkable as it may appear, it was, however, a fact that I was restless
and uneasy. Instinct seemed to whisper in my ears, continually day and
night, messages of warning that all was not well. The air seemed
overcharged with electricity. It felt heavy, like an ominous calm
preceding a violent storm. Yet, rack my brain as I would, I could not
for the life of me fathom the depth of the mystery, nor could I trace
its origin to any fountain-head.
Meanwhile my new assistant entered upon his undertaking. In a few days
he sent to me by code a detailed description of a sea engagement between
German and English warships. It was the fight off the Dogger Bank in the
North Sea, in April, 1915.
In the course of the next six weeks, in addition to his proper work,
arranging with outpost correspondent agents, he collected and forwarded
at regular intervals a mass of interesting matter, all good newspaper
copy, with many little tit-bits of special news which were most
acceptable. But he would rub in items of local naval and military
intelligence in spite of my repeated instructions to the contrary.
Not only was I a staunch fatalist, but I believed in a Divine
Providence which directed one's actions and destinies, which shaped
one's ends, rough-hew them how one might. In this instance it probably
saved my liberty from being suddenly and inconveniently disturbed.
Before I received any of these reports before mentioned they were all (I
have since ascertained) intercepted and carefully studied by the
Criminal Investigation Department. Naturally, my replies were
anticipated by them with still greater pleasure. Dame Providence,
however, directed the pen when I upbraided my assistant, reminding him
he was engaged in journalism, not espionage; that he was representing a
great newspaper and for the time being I was a guest in an hospitable,
generous country; further, that I would at once dispense with his
services if he offended against that country's laws; and that, when he
sent information concerning German spies, such was wrongly addressed--he
should have sent it direct to the local police, whom, I added, were _the
most intelligent, fair-minded and smartest crowd of their kind anywhere
in Europe_.
I cannot help smiling to myself now when I think of this. It seems so
ridiculous to think that I should have penned such flattering words
regarding those who were attempting to catch me, _flagrante delicto_, as
the law puts it! It probably puzzled them not a little, whilst it must
have caused them to suspect their wily journalistic friend as running
with the hare and at the same time hunting with the hounds.
About this period something else occurred which added to my uneasiness.
Naturally my most closely-guarded secret was my main line of
communication with London. No one held the secret of this but the most
trusted in the Service. One day an intercepted message was brought to
me. It contained a sign by which one of my messages could be identified.
I tested this message by a dozen different ways; the result was rubbish
in each instance. I knew by this that nothing of any importance was
known; but why should the message have been floated into channels
wherein it seemed to be known that I had nets? Who had floated it? How
had the sign even come to be used? I puzzled for hours in a dark room
smoking my customary strong black cigars furiously all the time, and I
left off more puzzled than when I began. I put on an agent to follow and
to watch myself from a distance, to try and see if anyone, and if so
whom, were then amusing themselves with that interesting pastime.
I put on another agent to "smear," or to attempt to, a volunteer agent
whom I relied upon to a certain extent for local correspondence. I had
long entertained strong suspicions concerning the latter, but I could
never find any tangible proof against him. I wrote spoof letters to
myself and I caused other similar missives to be sent to myself from
various quarters, upon which I was sure my interceptor would take
action, and his movement would probably be thereby detected. I tried and
tested various simple and ingenious dodges to trap my tormentor, but
everything proved in vain.
Exactly three days after intercepting the first message a repeat
followed through the same channels. It was a lengthy document and bore
the outward visible signs of genuineness, but inwardly it read nothing
but nonsense. The object my enemies aimed at had failed. I had provided
for that. But whether the police, or the naval or military authorities,
were behind the attempt, or whether it was an experiment of Hun origin,
I never could unravel.
Several quaint experiences following one another in rapid succession
made me wish I could carry through the work I had in hand to a rapid
conclusion in order that I could shift to a more congenial atmosphere. I
had received warning before starting on this particular business that my
lot was not likely to be enviable; and that I would probably have to put
my head into the lion's mouth. I had also been warned that the place to
which I had been sent to stay and to direct certain operations was known
to be infested with German agents, whose jealousy and zeal in watching
over certain vitally important secrets amounted to a mania. My
visitation might find a good comparison in likening it to a police
officer being sent to sit in the entrance hall of an illicit West End
gambling hell. He knew every effort would be strained to tempt him away
from the main issue or to shift him. My Commanding Officer had intimated
that if I survived ten days he would consider I had done well. As a
matter of fact, I stuck it six weeks. I had arranged what was wanted. I
had fixed other matters towards a promising and satisfactory conclusion
when I received a picture postcard. The illustration represented a
motor-boat going at full speed. Underneath it was written: "Skip-per
ahoy!"
In the ordinary way this would seem to convey nothing beyond a casual
salutation. But the hyphen! It was evidently intentional. I read it as a
hint to get quickly away--to skip, in fact--whilst the motor-boat
suggested that a private rapid departure would probably not be to my
disadvantage.
The weather was much too tempestuous to venture to sea in such small
craft as might have been available. No other possible road of retreat,
except by sea, was open, so I had to study ways and means. I informed
those who waited on me that I should be leaving three days later for a
well-known town lying fifty or sixty miles to the southward. Meanwhile
the few remaining details necessary to complete the objective of my
visit were arranged, and the local time-sheets of every known route
touching at the island were studied. I noted with some satisfaction that
early in the morning two boats crossed each other's passage at given
hours, arriving at the same quay and departing at the same time.
The next day, before six in the morning, I appeared on the quay and
booked a ticket for the southern journey. No one appeared to be
watching, and when the boats arrived I made the mistake of boarding the
boat which sailed north, although I hardly considered it necessary to
inform the purser of the fact when he demanded the wherewithal to cover
passage on his ship.
No one in the town knew I had left, but I had sent a secret message to
headquarters advising of my intentions.
At the next port of call a letter came aboard addressed to Herr Schmidt,
which I claimed. It was a transcribed telephone message. Reading between
the lines the writing conveyed only one interpretation. Reduced to
simple English, it meant: "Eruption--quit."
I promptly left the boat I was on and changed my route by going inland
over a peninsula to a small fishing station, where a portion of luck
added to a large portion of whiskey secured a berth on a small
cargo-boat running direct to another country.
The false agent who had sold his benefactor but was unable to deliver
the brand of goods he had promised, then finding that certain monetary
demands were not provided for by telegram, although not in accordance
with his agreed arrangements, fell a victim to his besetting sin. He
indulged in a prolonged debauch during which he divulged the full depths
of his iniquity. His confessions were in due course reported to me, and
they brought him the order of the boot.
The deep-laid schemes of the perhaps too-muchly-lauded police, like
those of mice and men, ganged agley; action on their warrant to arrest
had perforce to be postponed _sine die_; whilst the elusive Herr
Schmidt, the pivot round which this little teacup drama gyrated,
vanished _pro tem_. from the affairs and haunts of the disciples of
Kultur and goulashes.