time has passed for mincing matters, or for the further protection of traitors in our midst. I here cast no reflection upon any single person, and further, any person mentioned in this article is beyond the pale of my statement, but I here assert that I have had, in my possession, a list—actually shown to me by a friend at Wilhelm-strasse, who was their paymaster—of persons in England and America who have been in receipt of German money, and who, by dint of it and of secret influence, have risen to high degree, and, in some instances, to places with fat emoluments. Motives of patriotism alone prevent me from revealing that list at this hour of our national crisis.
The many truths contained in the following chapters of this book must surely reveal to the reader the edge of the volcano upon which we are now sitting. Notwithstanding all the false official assurances, the sleepiness of the much-vaunted Intelligence Department, and the fettered hands of the police—both Metropolitan and Provincial—must surely give the man-in-the-street to pause. Spies are to-day among us in every walk of life, and in almost every town in Great Britain. Every single man and woman among them is impatiently awaiting the signal for the destruction of our homes and the ruin and massacre of our dear ones, and yet we are actually asked to believe that no danger exists!
The same kid-gloved policy which, at a cost of 13,000 pounds has provided a pleasant mansion with charming grounds, and a staff of valets, servants, etc, for German officers, many of whom were responsible for the barbaric outrages on innocent women, and the massacre of children in Belgium, has also placed a protecting hand upon our alien enemies. Assuredly this is an injudicious policy, for it has already created a very grave suspicion and distrust in the public mind.
The “authorities”—whoever the persons in real authority may be—know full well how, with every outgoing mail to Holland or Scandinavia, there goes forth a mass of information concerning us, collected by spies, and forwarded to neutral countries, where it is again collected by German secret-agents, and forwarded to the German Secret Service in Berlin.
These letters are generally written, either in invisible ink or in cipher-ticks, upon newspapers or magazines, which are merely placed in unsuspicious-looking wrappers addressed to somebody, usually with an English name, in Holland, Denmark, or Sweden. I have before me two such letters posted in Hertfordshire. Further, we have undoubted communication existing nightly from the sea to London by means of the line of signal-lights which I have described, and further, these, it has lately been proved, extend north, from the neighbourhood of Harrow, right up to Leeds, Manchester, and Liverpool. There are other fixed lights, too; brilliantly-lit windows and skylights, which show each night, and are intended as beacons for the guidance of the enemy’s aircraft. Yet, all the time, we pursue the foolish policy of trying to hide London by darkening it, and, at the same time, shine searchlights at the self-same place and at the same hour each night—apparently to betray to the enemy our most vulnerable points.
It was not long ago that, in this connection, my friend Mr. Geo. R. Sims pointed out the existence of a line of these guiding-lights, extending from Willesden across to Buckingham Palace, and happily, through the exposure he made, those of our “friends” who maintained them have now been forced to leave them unlit.
Germans have been found in possession of hotels and mansions in strategic positions all over the United Kingdom, and to-day numbers of alien enemies—thanks to the order which has released them from the internment-camps—are actually employed at the various great railway termini in the Metropolis! Fancy such a state of affairs being permitted by Imperial Germany—a country in which British prisoners of war are half-starved, as evidenced by a cleverly composed letter before me from one who is unfortunately a prisoner, and which passed the German censor, whose knowledge of English was not so extensive as to cause him to suspect.
When the reader has digested the pages which follow—chapters which give a very lucid, calm, and first-hand idea of the low-down methods of German espionage, he will, I venture to think, agree that it is of no use to cross the barbarian’s sword with a peacock’s feather. Germany intends, if she can, to crush and to humiliate us, to devastate our homes, to outrage and massacre our dear ones, and by every subtle and dastardly means, to bring upon us a disaster so stupendous as to stagger humanity. Shall we remain lulled to sleep further by assurances which are not borne out by facts? Germany’s advance guard of spies are already here, rubbing shoulders with us, many of them smug and respectable citizens passing among us entirely unsuspected, members of our churches, honoured, and believed to be Britons. Some are alien enemies, others are traitors, who have imperilled this country’s safety for the lure of German gold.
In another place I have fully explained how the German Government held out an alluring bait to myself. If this was done to me, then surely it has been done to others.
We are Britons, fighting for our King and our Country. Our fathers, husbands, sons, and brothers, have gone forth to battle for the right and hurl back the barbaric Teuton-tide which threatens to overwhelm us. Some, alas! already lie in their graves. Is it therefore not our duty to those we hold dear to see that spies shall not exist in our midst? If the Government are so utterly incapable of dealing effectively with the problem, as they are now proved to be, then why do they not allow the formation of a Central Board, with drastic powers, to end at once this national danger, which grows more acute with the dawn of every day?
I am no alarmist, nor am I affected with spy mania. I am merely here writing a plain and bitter truth, the truth which I have learnt after years of experience and patient inquiry. If space permitted, I could relate a hundred stories of espionage, all supported by evidence; stories which would contain as much excitement as any I have ever written in the guise of fiction. But my only object in this preface is to urge the public to read this book, to inquire into and study the problem for themselves, and to assure them that the words of “Ex-Intelligence Officer” are full of very grave truths, which cannot be ignored or refuted.
It is for the public themselves to demand satisfaction in a very determined and outstanding manner. The voice of the country is unanimous that we are being trifled with, and surely it is a thousand pities that mistrust should thus arise, as it is rapidly arising, at this grave crisis of our national history.
The public have been told definitely by Mr. Tennant that “Every enemy alien is known, and is now under constant police surveillance.” If the public, in face of the mass of evidence accumulating to the contrary, will still believe it, then let them rest in their fool’s paradise until the Day of Awakening. If not, then they, through their representatives in Parliament, have the matter in their own hands.
William Le Queux.
Devonshire Club, London S.W.
April 1915.
Foreword.
British and other official circles know more of the German secret service than the public are aware of, and there is little that is done by German agents without the cognisance of the countries affected by their work, at the present time. The following pages make no attempt at unveiling all the secrets of the German system, for that would involve not a book, but a library. What has been done is to present such evidence with regard to the system as can be verified from unquestionable sources—the book given here in no case goes beyond the truth, and is capable of proof, with the exception of the chapter on agents provocateurs, of whose work no direct proofs are available to the general public. In this case the writer has been careful to state facts in such a way that they carry their own proof.
Further, as an ex-member of the Intelligence Staff, the writer has had access to information respecting the British secret service which is not generally available, but patriotic motives
