But this man Henkell was a mere underling compared with others.
Hermann von Mumm, of champagne fame, was the high priest of the spies
of Rheims. A multimillionaire, he owned a splendid residence in that
city, another in the Avenue du Bois de Boulogne in Paris, and a third
in the Department of the Marne. He was served by a retinue of servants,
most of whom were non-commissioned officers in the German army. Besides
being an enthusiastic motorist, he kept a racing stable. Many German
officers visited and stayed with him. Under cover of his wine business,
the acquiring of vineyards or other land, these spies openly scoured
the country until they knew it in its minutest details. Everything was
thus foreseen and arranged for the German occupation--the position of
trenches, good shelters, cemented platforms for heavy guns, and even
stores of ammunition in disused quarries. It was entirely due to Mumm
and his satellites that the Huns were able to establish themselves in
Champagne so firmly. After the victory he was to have been Prince of
Champagne.
Thanks to Hermann von Mumm's horse-dealings and the sumptuous fétes he
was accustomed to give, he succeeded in establishing relations with
innumerable people willing to uphold and help him in his nefarious
work. At Chantilly, the racing centre, he had quite a little army of
spies under his direction.
His brother, Walter von Mumm, a devotee of shooting, who with his
friends was responsible for about four thousand head of game every
year at Ville-aux-Bois, went to Germany in February, 1914, and on
his return informed his keepers that he should preserve no game that
year, _as he did not intend to shoot next season_. On July 25th, 1914,
he left in one of his motor-cars, with his French chauffeur, for
Frankfort, telling his servants he should be back in three weeks' time,
between August 15th and 25th. Once over the frontier the chauffeur was
astonished to see numbers of soldiers on the march, and was calmly
informed by his master that it was "_la guerre_." On reaching Frankfort
he was dismissed, and told to get back to France as best he could,
which he did after a long and painful journey _viâ_ Belgium.
In the district known as La Woevre, a great plain in the east,
extending between the Meuse and the Moselle, all the large farms
for years past gradually slipped into the hands of the Germans, who
generally bought them much above their value, and then, as often as
not, let them lie fallow. All the labourers were Germans, mostly not
speaking French, whilst many others appeared to be much above their
station--evidently spies who would be most useful to an invading army
as knowing all the strategic points, pathways, bogs, and so on.