But while it may be true that the main spy organisation has been partially broken up--as Mr. McKenna would have us believe--it should not be supposed, by any means, that the peril is at an end. Letters can still be smuggled out of the country. To test this, I myself have communicated with friends in Germany since the war by sending my letters to Italy, where they were re-addressed, and replies have come by the same means. Signals can, and are still, undoubtedly being made to German submarines lying within easy distance of our East Coast. And there can be no doubt that the stream of secret German gold, part of the £720,000 a year, has, alas! done its work all too well in inducing at least a few renegade Englishmen to betray their country. This thought leaves a nasty taste in one's mouth, but there are black sheep in all nations, and the black sheep of this kind are the master-spy's most precious instruments. Very few of them, fortunately or unfortunately, as we may choose to think, have been discovered; but an example was made of one--the ex-naval gunner, Parrott--who, perhaps, was one of the worst examples. Much organising of the actual work of espionage in England is believed to have been carried on by Count von der Schulenberg, who was recently appointed Governor of Liége. A very interesting account of his clever methods was published by the _Daily Mail_ soon after his appointment was announced. Von der Schulenberg belongs to what is, unquestionably, the most dangerous type of spy--the monied man of good family, of a certain culture, enjoying the friendship of people in the better ranks of life, and above all, able to plead many hobbies to account for his presence in this country. We have many of a similar sort in our midst, posing as naturalised persons. It was in 1909 that Schulenberg--whom I met at the Hotel Cecil, where I was living--first settled in England. He took a flat in Jermyn Street, where he spent a considerable time, probably in the work of familiarising himself with the ramifications of the German spy system in this country. He became well known among the German colony in the West End, and he was in the habit of spending considerable periods on some mysterious errands; at any rate he often disappeared for days from his favourite haunts. About two years ago this Schulenberg left Jermyn Street--and the Hotel Cecil, where he often came in to see his friends--and went to live in Borough Green, Kent, a quiet village within easy reach of Chatham Dockyard. Here he posed, of all things in the world, as a poultry fancier! Here he spent a good deal of time, sparing no pains to ingratiate himself with everybody in the district, and, to a great extent, succeeding.