_Secret stories of spies--How Royalty is protected--A scare--Criminals
are afraid of women--A traitor who was murdered--How evidence is
discovered--Confessors who hold their peace_
|SCATTERED over London is a small army of spies and informers, men
and women, whose business--sometimes whose pleasure--it is to make
communications to the authorities with regard to their fellow-citizens.
The romance of the Government spy or secret service agent is one thing;
the romance of the police informer or "nark" is another.
The spies of foreign Governments are of all classes. Some of them belong
to West End clubs and fare sumptuously every day; others are of humble
appearance and menial occupation. The spies of Russia are popularly
supposed to be highly interesting personalities. Furnished with
substantial funds and first-class introductions, they mix with the best
society, and have the _entrée_ of the most exclusive circles.
But the Russian spy is in Soho and in Whitechapel, as well as in
Mayfair and Belgravia, and some of the most active are members of the
revolutionary societies which have their West End meetings in a club
near Fitzroy Square, W.C., and their East End meetings in a club near
Brick Lane, Spitalfields.
Germany and France have their spies and secret service agents in London,
and some of them are British subjects who are taking foreign pay to
assist in the betrayal of their country's secrets.
The days are gone when foreign Governments subsidized London newspapers;
but every foreign Government of importance has in London its secret
representatives, and men and women who are practically members of its
secret police.
Some of these people are suspected, some of them are known, but the
majority go about their business so skilfully that no one, not even
their most intimate friend, has any idea of the nature of their real
occupation or the real source of their income.
The stories that might be written of the foreign spies of London are
many. The stories that will be written are few. There are certain
diplomatic considerations which make official silence imperative, even
when suspicion has developed into absolute certainty.
We do not suffer from the spy mania here as they do in France. We do not
suspect the foreign tourist who arrives with a camera of designs
upon our fortifications; and in our easy-going way we credit foreign
Governments, especially Germany, with knowing already quite as much
about our national defences as we do ourselves. With the spies who are
over here looking after foreign political offenders who have sought
"asylum" in the capital we have no concern. In this free land they are
as free as the men whose actions they are watching, whose footsteps they
are dogging, and whose fate they are seeking to encompass.
We know that London is the centre of the revolutionary movements of
Europe. We know that here most of the assassinations which have shocked
the world have been plotted and planned. The name and place of abode
of every foreign anarchist who comes to this country are registered at
Scotland Yard. The system of observation is as perfect as can be, and
valuable information is constantly given to the foreign Governments as
to the movements of suspected individuals. But the anarchists live
in safety and plot in security. It is not our custom to take violent
measures against them. To this policy we owe the immunity from
outrage that we enjoy. The anarchists of Europe have no desire to make
themselves objectionable in England. "Leave us alone and we will leave
you alone" is the unwritten understanding in "Red" London between the
foreign revolutionaries and the authorities.
There was a time when the apostles of the infernal machine and the bomb
sought to terrify our own Government, and then the tension at the Yard
was terrible. Spies and informers there were who brought news of many
a plot and prevented its accomplishment; but every now and then the
dastardly design was carried out. That time is happily passed, and
the "Reds" only cause the heads of the police extra anxiety when some
foreign potentate is visiting our King and driving openly through the
streets of London.
On these occasions every foreign anarchist and terrorist known to
the police--and I doubt if there is one in our midst who is not--is
shadowed. Some of them may get into a house on the line of procession;
some of them may mix with the crowd.
But wherever they are there is someone at their elbow who is watching
every movement, ready at the first hint of danger to act promptly and
decisively.
When recently the King of Spain drove through the streets of London
I stood in the crowd close to a foreign anarchist who makes violent
speeches in a certain "Red" club in a back street in Soho. He was so
closely wedged in between two stalwart-looking men of the navvy type that
when the King of Spain came by he, the anarchist, couldn't have got his
hands up to take off his hat had he wanted to do so. The navvies were
police officers.
On the occasion of the present Tsar's last visit to London as the
Cesarewitch the precautions taken were of an extraordinary character.
The anarchists and Russian terrorists in London were not only closely
watched, but they were prevented from getting close to the line of route
or near to the Royal Palaces.
The known revolutionaries are easy to deal with. The police have daily
information of their movements. The "cranks" are the real terror of the
authorities, for you never know what a crank will do.
A pale-faced, middle-aged woman in black, caused considerable
consternation by attempting to enter St. James's Palace with a
suspicious-looking box. She was promptly seized by the police.
On the box being opened with every precaution, under the impression that
it was an infernal machine, it was found to contain a long steel chain
and a letter to the Cesarewitch, calling his attention to the fact
that chains of this description were being worn by the Russian Jews
in Siberia. The whole thing was harmless enough, but the officials who
first saw that box had a very bad moment.
On every occasion of the visit of a foreign potentate in London the
"information" received is of voluminous character. Some of it is worth
serious consideration, but a good deal of it is of the "crank" order,
with just enough appearance of sanity in it to cause the authorities
considerable trouble and anxiety.
The "information received" with regard to ordinary crimes and ordinary
criminals is of a different kind. The information on which the police
as a rule act when they obtain a "clue" to a mystery is furnished
from outside. Sometimes it comes from an acquaintance of the guilty
person--as often as not, when the guilty person is a professional
criminal, it comes from a jealous woman or from a "nark"--that is, from
a person who mixes with a criminal set as one of themselves, and is all
the time in constant communication with the police.
"From information I received I went to such and such an address," is the
conventional opening of the police officer's evidence.
Very rarely does the real source of information transpire. For the
police to give away a professional informer would be to lose an
important ally in their war against crime. The deputy of a low
lodging-house, the landlord of a public-house frequented by bad
characters, would have to pay a heavy penalty if it were known that
he was the person who told the police where to put their hand on the
"wanted" man. Still worse would it fare with the women who, often when
the proceeds of the job have been spent upon them, give Scotland Yard
the "office" that So-and-so has been flush of money ever since the night
of a certain burglary or shop robbery.
Some of the most expert criminals in London always work single-handed.
They might trust a "pal," but they mistrust a pal's pal, and they are
especially prejudiced against his female acquaintances. In nine cases
out of ten it is a woman who has given the first information to Scotland
Yard when a professional criminal who has covered his tracks with the
greatest success is suddenly pounced upon by an active and intelligent
officer.
Sometimes the betrayal is due to a quarrel in which the woman has been
badly knocked about; sometimes it is due to jealousy, but as often as
not the information comes from a woman who lives in the neighbourhood,
who consorts with thieves, who is herself the wife or the sweetheart of
a criminal, but is at the same time a spy acting for the police and in
receipt of police pay.
The subject is one upon which it is necessary to write with discretion.
In the interests of justice a certain reticence is imperative in such a
matter as this. If it were not so I might show how in some sensational
cases which have recently been tried the guilty persons would never have
been brought to justice but for an act of betrayal which was treacherous
in the extreme.
When one knows who committed a murder, to conceal that knowledge is to
be an accessory after the fact. The law demands that the knowledge shall
instantly be placed at the service of the police. I am not considering
information given with regard to murder as treacherous. The cases I
have in my mind are those in which the crime was incited by certain
individuals who for purposes of their own intended to betray the
criminal.
The "_agent provocateur_" the person who incites a fellow-citizen to
commit a crime in order that the police may make a clever capture or
secure a dangerous criminal who has hitherto evaded their well-spread
net, is not, fortunately, a conventional character in the British
judicial drama.
But there are men and women who put up burglaries and robberies and
criminal schemes in order that they may give information and get their
victims caught in the act.
Not long ago a young policeman captured a man with a quantity of silver
plate in his possession. The man was coming from a house in the suburbs
at an early hour in the morning.
When the man was brought before the magistrate he told in self-defence
a most extraordinary story. He was an ex-convict, but he was leading an
honest life and working under the police. He called a police officer
as a witness on his behalf, and the officer acknowledged that the man's
story was correct.
The prisoner had given information that a burglary was to be committed,
and had, "in the interests of justice," taken part in it himself. When
he was captured he was on his way to take the stolen property to
the police-station, and the information he had given had enabled the
authorities to secure the other men. "The prisoner was discharged." If
you read between the lines of this story you will have a fair idea
of the way in which the professional "nark" works in connection with
what--at least, so far as he is concerned--is a put-up job--a trap
deliberately arranged for the capture of a criminal.
When a sensational crime has been committed by confederates or by a
"gang," and the hue and cry continues unabated, it sometimes happens
that one of them tries to make himself safe by offering information to
the authorities on certain well-under-stood conditions.
"King's evidence" is recognized as a necessary evil, for it is
occasionally the only evidence upon which a conviction could possibly be
obtained. Turning King's evidence does not always save the traitor. He
may escape the punishment of the law, only to meet with a tragic fate
at other hands. Carey, one of the informers at the Phoenix Park murder
trial, was got safely away, only to be shot dead by Patrick O'Donell on
board a steamship near Port Elizabeth, South Africa.
Other informers less notorious met with "fatal accidents" in far-off
lands. Two who went to Paris and lived under assumed names came to the
Morgue. They were "found drowned" in the Seine.
The informer in the great bank-note forgery case was doomed to death by
the men whom he had betrayed. The revolver with which the elder Barmash
committed suicide after sentence had been passed upon him was intended
to be used upon the informer who stood in the dock a fellow-prisoner.
The opportunity of shooting him did not occur. The man was never in a
position in which he could be safely aimed at.
But the informer is not always called upon to make a public appearance.
Many of the tales we read about the marvellous discovery of a clue by
the police would be shorn of their romance if we knew that an important
fact was being kept in the background--viz. that the detective in charge
of the investigation had received a communication informing him exactly
where to look for the incriminating piece of evidence.
Sometimes the information is anonymous. A few words scribbled on half a
sheet of notepaper brought two men to the gallows. The writer suggested
that a visit should be paid to a certain house where a little boy would
be found who had lost a toy. The hint was taken, and the tale the child
told of his missing toy led to one of the most sensational captures of
modern times.
Nothing was said about the information that furnished the police with
the clue. There was no necessity to tell the story, or to produce the
anonymous letter. Yet, but for that hint, it is probable that the crime
would have remained one of the unfathomed mysteries of the Metropolis.
A year or two ago a foreign woman was tried for murder. The
evidence--although the body of her victim had been concealed in a
trunk--justified a verdict of manslaughter, and the woman only got a
term of penal servitude.
For two years this woman had been of the greatest assistance to justice.
She had become associated with a dangerous class of women in a West
End district, and when a man had been robbed by one of them, or by men
acting in concert with them, this foreign woman made it her business
to find out who the guilty parties were, and to send their names to the
police.
She was to all intents and purposes a police spy living the life of the
class upon whom she was spying, and for certain reasons enjoying their
confidence.
The professional informer or "nark" is rarely suspected. Personal
communication with the authorities is avoided as much as possible.
Sometimes, in order to put a desperate gang off the scent, the spy who
has been in close relationship with them is arrested too, and discharged
on account of "insufficient evidence" to implicate him.
To the student of humanity even more interesting than the professional
informers are the honest people who become possessed of information
with regard to criminal deeds, and from conscientious motives hold their
peace.
The Roman Catholic clergy never, of course, betray that which they learn
under the seal of confession. But it sometimes happens that terrible
secrets are learnt by Protestant clergymen, Salvation Army workers,
doctors, and nurses.
A fierce press discussion raged some years ago around the action of a
Salvation Army captain to whom a crime was confessed by a penitent, and
who went straight away and gave information. Some people held that
the action was justified, others that the confession was made in
circumstances which did not justify its betrayal.
After the conviction of Israel Lipski for the murder of a Jewess in the
East End there was considerable doubt as to his guilt. It looked for a
time as if he was likely to be reprieved. A Jewish Rabbi, to whom
Lipski had already confessed, kept the secret inviolate until the Home
Secretary had refused the petition. The Rabbi knew the man was guilty,
but he felt he had no right to use his confession against him.
The secrets of many of the mysteries which have baffled the police
are in the possession of men and women who for one motive or another
hesitate to reveal them.
The reason for silence is sometimes relationship to the guilty person. A
wife cannot be expected to give her husband to the gallows, a father or
mother cannot be expected to speak the word which would send a son to a
shameful death.
So all the time they keep the ghastly secret and live in constant terror
that some day the truth may be discovered.
But most criminals are "given away" sooner or later by informers.
How many are thus handed over to justice the public have no means of
estimating. The police rule is to screen the "nark" at all hazards. The
moment an informer is put in the witness-box his value as an instrument
in the detection of crime is destroyed for ever.
The system is absolutely necessary. After the commission of an offence
supposed to be the work of a professional criminal, the detective
department must know where it can obtain accurate information as to the
latest movements of the men likely to have been concerned. It does know.
There is scarcely a criminal on the police books who is not kept under
observation by one of his own class who "for a consideration" will
betray him.