We can respect Lody; we can have no other feelings but the bitterest scorn and contempt for such traitorous miscreants as the ex-naval gunner, Charles Parrott, who, early in 1913, was sentenced to four years' penal servitude, under the Official Secrets Act of 1911, for selling official secrets likely to be useful to the enemy. The class of traitor to which Parrott belongs represents the spy in his very lowest and most contemptible guise. About these wretched agents among us there is no redeeming feature. Patriotism is, to them, a word of no meaning; to their country they have no attachment: their one idea is to make money, and to do this they are willing to risk the very existence of the nation to which they belong. Show them gold, and there is no work on earth too dirty for them to undertake! And we have, I fear, many such men in our public services. It is men of this stamp who have made the very name of "spy" a by-word in all countries and all times—not the men who risk their lives in order to gain an advantage for the cause[Pg 153] to which they are attached by every sacred obligation of honour.
Parrott, up to August, 1912, was a gunner attached to H.M.S. "Pembroke" at Sheerness. He was a warrant officer, and as such would have opportunities of obtaining information which would be denied to those of lower rank. The charge against him was, of course, not one of spying, since the offence was not committed in time of war. It was couched in the following terms:—
That he being a British officer did feloniously communicate at Ostend to a person unknown certain information in regard to the arms, armaments, dispositions and movements of ships and men of His Majesty's Navy which was calculated, or intended to be, or might be useful to an enemy.
In considering Parrott's case we have to remember that he was an Englishman, in the service of the Crown in the Navy, and a British officer. He was in a position of responsibility, and his pay, with allowances, would work out at about ￡260 a year, so that he had not even the excuse of poverty to urge in mitigation of his horrible offence. He had been in the Navy for a number of years, and he was regarded as an efficient and trustworthy officer, so that he was able to become acquainted with matters which it was his obvious duty to guard with the most jealous care. He had been associated with the building of the "Agamemnon" on the Clyde, so that he was intimately acquainted with all those particulars of guns[Pg 154] and armaments which, in the event of war, it would be of the utmost interest to an enemy to know. He knew, in fact, of confidential matters of the utmost importance.
Parrott, on July 11th, 1912, asked for and obtained leave of absence, on the plea that he wanted to go to Devonport. On the same day he sent a telegram, not from Sheerness, where he lived, but from Sittingbourne, to "Richard Dinger," at an address in Berlin, saying, "Coming eight o'clock Saturday, Seymour." The same day he left Sheerness by train. A lady travelled with him as far as Sittingbourne, and then he went on alone to Dover.
Apparently he had already become an object of suspicion, for on the Admiralty Pier at Dover he was questioned by Detective-Inspector Grey. He was searched, and on him was found a piece of torn paper on which were the words: "When there is a chance," "Coming over on Saturday of that same week," "You telegraph probably Saturday, then I make all my arrangements to leave the moment I get order." On the other side of the paper were the words, "Richard Dinger, Esq.," and "With much love, yours, R."
Parrott's explanation of all this was that he had been writing to a woman in the name of another man, and that he was going to meet her at Ostend. In his pocket was found a naval signal-form, and in answer to the Inspector he admitted that he was a naval[Pg 155] officer, and asked that his wife should not be told about the "lady." The Inspector decided to let him go, but kept the paper.
Parrott evidently thought that the detective had no suspicion as to the real motive of his visit to Ostend, or he would surely have taken the alarm. He crossed, however, to Ostend, carefully shadowed all the time by no less acute an observer than ex-inspector Melville of Scotland Yard. When the boat arrived at Ostend, Parrott went through the station, and was joined by another man. There was no greeting, no welcome, no handshaking, not a sign of recognition; the other man simply sidled up alongside Parrott and they went off together. Mr. Melville formed the opinion that the man was a foreigner, and probably a German. They went about together for a time and then Parrott returned to Dover.
An inquiry followed, and ultimately Parrott's name was removed from the Navy List. The case against him was not, however, complete, and it was not until October that the police were able to lay him by the heels. It was then found that he was having letters addressed to him in the name of Couch delivered at a tobacconist's shop at Chelsea. Five or six letters came to him, and on November 16th two police officers went to the shop, where another letter had arrived. During the day Parrott called, the letter was given to him, and he was at once arrested.
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In his presence the letter was opened. Inside were two ￡5 Bank of England notes—which, it was afterwards shown, had been in circulation in Germany—and a letter bearing the postmark "London, E.," which was as follows:—
Dear Mr. Couch,—I am very much obliged to you for your prompt reply to my last letter. Now I beg to place in your hands some questions in addition to my last letter. Have the goodness to leave as soon as possible for Firth of Forth, ascertaining about the following:—Which parts of the Fleet are in or off the Forth since November 5. Only the vessels of the First and Eighth Destroyer Flotilla, or which other men-of-war of any kind else? Where is the Second Destroyer Flotilla now? Have there been mobilising tests of the Flotillas and coast defences in the Firth of Forth? What are the Flotillas doing or proposing now? What number of Royal Fleet Reserve Class A are called in now for the yearly exercise? Where do they exercise? Are any of these men kept longer than a fortnight? I think it will be necessary to stay some days at Firth of Forth for gathering information about those questions. I should be much obliged if I could be informed as soon as you have got satisfying statements about one or several of these points. Do not wait to answer until you have found out all I wish to know.
Enclosed ￡10 as travel expenses for the last and this journey. Please tell me in the next letter after having returned to London your expenses that I can hand you the balance if the ￡10 should not do it. I beg you to keep yourself ready, if possible also in the near future, to run over immediately to any place as soon as rumours as to extraordinary preparations of material and personal are running. In such a case please do not wait until you have received an order from me, but leave on your own[Pg 157] accord, and at the same time send your address and make your doings known to me with particulars of the reason.—Yours truly, Richard.
I have given this letter in full for several reasons. Parrott was not definitely charged with giving information to Germany, but the letter is obviously the work of a German, and, moreover, a German who was working in London—for it was posted in the Eastern district! It suggests, moreover, that the Germans suspected that some naval movements were on foot, and were willing to pay handsomely to get the news; it will be noted that Parrott was practically given carte blanche to spend what he liked without waiting for authority from his master. A subsequent examination of his banking account showed that he had paid in about fourteen ￡5 notes, some of which had been in circulation in Germany. He had also been in Hamburg and Flushing, two centres of German espionage.
Parrott's own explanation of the affair was that he met a woman in a London music hall and went over to Ostend to see her. While he was there he failed to meet the woman, but a man came up to him and asked him if he was expecting to meet anyone. He replied that he expected to meet a lady, and the man then professed to know about her, and said she was unable to come. After that he received a letter from the man he met at Ostend. At that time he had been dismissed from the Service, and the letter[Pg 158] expressed the concern of the writer, and the lady had offered to help him. He replied asking what assistance they could give, and had a letter asking him to go to Hamburg. He went and met the man, who said he was a newspaper correspondent, and asked him to write an article once a week dealing with naval matters—a story curiously like that told by the spy Schulz. He afterwards received a letter from "Richard" outlining the kind of article required. The man said: "Let me know the progress of warships building, ships launched, ships laid down, and the movements of ships. Send me a specimen article dealing with the subject." He then bought a copy of a naval paper and from it wrote an article, which he sent.
Then Parrott described how he got a letter from the lady asking him to go to Rotterdam to see her. This he did, hoping, as he said, "to induce her to come to England, as he wished to raise the question why he was dismissed from the Service." Not unnaturally the lady declined to come, but Parrott admitted that she told a man who was with her to pay his expenses, and then gave him 100 francs.
"I have little doubt but that you were entrapped by a woman," said Mr. Justice Darling, in sending Parrott to four years' penal servitude. "You have been long under suspicion," his Lordship added; "I do not believe for a moment it was a first offence."
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Even the Liberal journals which had long insisted that there were no German spies in England thought this sentence was inadequate. "It will strike most people," said the Daily Chronicle, "as not erring on the side of over-severity." The case was a flagrant abuse of a most sacred trust, and deserved all the punishment the law allowed; as a matter of fact, it deserved a good deal more, and Parrott was more than lucky that he was on trial, not in Germany, but in England.
The case of Karl Gustav Ernst is of very great interest, not only as revealing some of the methods of the Kaiser's "master-spy," the man Steinhauer, but also as showing the utter futility of relying on "naturalisation" of Germans to protect us against spying.
We are constantly told that it is impossible for us to take steps against "naturalised" Germans, as we have solemnly undertaken to treat them in all respects as Englishmen, and we have even "naturalised" many Germans since the outbreak of war. The Ernst case ought to have been sufficient warning of the danger arising from the naturalised alien, but apparently there is no limit to the innocent trustfulness of our sleepy Home Office. How long it will be before we learn that a German no more changes his nature by adopting naturalisation than an ass does if he clothes himself in a lion's skin I cannot say; I only hope it will not be brought home to us by some terrible catastrophe[Pg 160] which will seriously affect our fighting power. Ernst, be it remembered, was not even naturalised; he claimed to have been born in England, and posed as an Englishman. Yet he was a spy; how much more, then, have we reason to suspect the recently "naturalised alien" whose national sympathies have not been blunted by birth and long residence in this country? The leopard cannot change his spots, and "once a German, always a German," is the only safe rule for us in the present crisis.
Ernst, who was a hairdresser in the Caledonian Road, London, had been for sixteen years in business there. His function was to act as a sort of "post-office" for Steinhauer of Potsdam, by whom letters were sent to him for distribution throughout England. In order to minimise risks of detection, these letters were posted in various parts of London. Ernst, of course, besides acting as "post-office," made inquiries on his own account, and did some of the work of getting into touch with other agents. He was paid all out-of-pocket expenses and a kind of retaining fee, first of ￡1 a month, and then, when he pointed out that the business was both risky and important, ￡1 10s. a month.
Ernst first came under suspicion of the Nameless Department as long ago as October, 1911, and we ought to admit with cheerful gratitude that he was a very valuable ally to us! From the very commencement the authorities were, I happen to know, alive[Pg 161] to what was going on, and the closest observation was kept on the hairdresser's shop. All letters were opened by the postal authorities, their contents were carefully copied, and a most useful accumulation of information thus came into the hands of the astute director of the Department. It was not specifically stated that Parrott was detected in this way, but as letters were sent to him by Ernst we may well assume that by such means the authorities were put on his track.
One of the most useful pieces of information picked up was a list of names and addresses of persons to whom letters from Germany were sent for distribution, and who were spies at Chatham, Sheerness, Portsmouth, Rosyth, and other places. An amusing feature of the case was that after all these letters had been carefully examin............