German Spies

Carl Hans Lody

Carl Hans Lody was the first spy to be executed in the Tower of since the time of George III. He was also viewed by many people as the most favourable specimen of a German agent with whom we had to deal during the war for there is no doubt that his motives were purely patriotic.

On those grounds there was some talk of his death sentence being commuted to penal servitude for life, but when the proposal was brought before the head of the counter-espionage section it was refused in the basis that the public announcement of a spy's execution would have a deterrent effect on future German spies coming to this country.

This decision sealed his fate, and Lody paid the supreme penalty on Friday, 6 .

He met his death without flinching, and on the morning or his execution, when the Assistant Provost Marshal came to his cell to tell him his time had come, he said, rather wistfully, "I suppose you will not care to shake hands with a German spy.'' "No, I would not," said the APM, "but I will shake hands with a brave man", and so Carl Lody died.

Of all the impossible tasks with which any war historian is confronted, that of analysing the mental psychology of a spy is the worst. There are patriotic spies and hireling spies. It was the latter type which predominated amongst the German agents who came tn this country during the war. Nearly all of neutral origin, they came into the game for what they could make out of it, and the inevitable conclusion one came to was that they had very little conception of the odds against them. There were Peruvians, Brazilians, Uruguayans, German-Americans, Irishmen, Dutchmen, Scandinavians and Spaniards. When captured and interrogated they behaved with the characteristics common to their race. The Dutchman and the Scandinavian would preserve a sullen indifference to everything, answering questions reluctantly, and making desperate endeavours to avoid committing themselves.

Not so the South Americans - with the charming insouciance of the Latin, they would answer any and every question - too readily, in fact. But they were permitted to go on until such time as their information became nothing but a mass of contradictions - when they would cheerfully own up to lying. The German-American would be indignant, threatening his interrogator with all the pains and penalties of international law - until confronted with the evidence of his guilt when he would lapse into glowering silence. The German lied - continued lying - until his forged passport and secret ink messages were produced, when he, too, would see that the game was up, and would accordingly relapse into silence.

There was one spy who broke down badly under the relentless cross-examination. As he was asked a question so would he reply and then ask, "Can you tell me if this means death?" "I cannot say," his interrogator would answer. So it went on for half an hour. Every time the spy replied to a damaging question he would ask if it meant death to him. At that his interrogator grew curious, and asked, "Why is it you want to know?" The spy whose nerves were rapidly approaching a state of collapse, burst into tears and, holding his hands over his face, sobbed, "I have an aged mother in Stettin, and would like to provide for her before I die".

It could not be said of Carl Lody that he gave his cross-examiners any assistance when taken to Scotland Yard. He was a professional spy, whose appointment had been specially approved by the Kaiser, and although he made a great mystery of the fact right up to the time of his death, there is no doubt that he was sent on a special mission with the knowledge of his Emperor as soon as it became evident that we had, for the time being, wiped out the German spy system in Great Britain.

Lody's past history made him eminently suitable for the precarious post. Born in 1879 in , he had been a Lieutenant in the German Navy, but resigned about 1900 owing to lack of means, and was posted to the Reserve of Officers. Speaking excellent English - with an American accent, it is true - by virtue of long residence in the United States (he had been married to an American woman from whom he was divorced by the time the war started), he was the kind of person who could find employment anywhere in the world. After his resignation he entered the employment of the Hamburg-Amerika Steamship Line as a tourist guide. In that capacity he travelled all over Britain, and was well known in London. At one time he attempted to enter the employ of Thomas Cook and Son, but that firm, being rather suspicious of his bona fides, did not engage him. Lody returned to Berlin from a Norwegian tour a few days before 4 August 1914, ready to take up his duties of spy.

He moved to Berlin and volunteered for service in the German Navy, but was sent to German Naval Intelligence, because of his ability to speak good English.

It was necessary to obtain him a passport which would protect him in the projected masquerade of an American citizen, and the manner by which this was brought about was typically German.

An American named Charles A Inglis was staying in Berlin at that time, and he had made application to his embassy for a visa to enable him to continue travelling in Europe. This had been duly granted, and his passport had been passed on to the German Foreign Office for visa purposes. There it disappeared. Carl Hans Lody had become Mr Charles A Inglis, the latter's photograph had been removed and that of Lody substituted. It was an excellent ruse in its way, for hundreds of Americans were pouring out of Germany at the time.

Provided with a substantial amount of money, he set off from Hamburg to neutral Norway, from where, on 14 August, he took a ship to Newcastle, arriving on 27 August. He then went to where he first stayed at the North British Station Hotel, Edinburgh. The plan was for him to monitor the British fleet in the Forth Estuary, counting the number of warships and estimating their military value.

The , the large estuary to the north of Edinburgh, was of great strategic importance. As well as being the main seaward approach to the Scottish capital and the site of the Forth Bridge, it was used as an anchorage by dozens of ships. The area was heavily fortified with gun batteries and minefields to protect it against attacks from the sea. The Germans wanted to obtain information on the British fleet and defences, as well as the aftermath of any engagements. According to the German Admiralty's files, "if or when Mr Lody comes to know that a naval battle has taken place, he will enquire as much and as unobtrusively as possible regarding losses, damage etc".

He took the bus to the Firth of Forth every morning. Just five days into his mission he sent his first report back to Germany, a telegram transmitted via Sweden. It read, "must cancel. Johnson very ill. Lost four days. Shall leave shortly. Charles", indicating that there were four ships being repaired at the dock and that there were several units about to head out to sea. The German submarine U-21 immediately received orders to attack and the lead ship of the Pathfinder class scout cruisers, HMS Pathfinder, then became the first ship ever sunk by a torpedo fired from a submarine. After this, Lody no longer felt safe staying at this hotel, especially as he had named his address in the telegram.

This first message, which had been sent to an Adolf Buchard in , led to Lody being detected. MI5 knew that this address was a cover for German intelligence. Any messages sent there were intercepted and Lody's correspondence made it clear that a German spy was active in Britain. His identity was not known at that stage, as he signed his messages "Charles" or "Nazi". (The latter alias had no connection with Adolf Hitler's party, which was founded after the war. Before then, the word "Nazi" was used as a short form of the name "Ignatz"; it was also a nickname for Austro-Hungarian soldiers). It later became known that Lody was travelling using an American passport in the name of Charles A Inglis.

During his month in Edinburgh, Lody sent regular messages in English and German to his contacts in Stockholm. Some of these were allowed to go through because they contained misleading information that would alarm the Germans but cause no harm to the British cause. For instance, he fell into the trap of sending the story about a supposed landing of "large numbers of Russian troops" in Scotland, repeating a rumour that thousands of Russians "with snow on their boots" had been sent to fight on the Western Front. He described with a wealth of detail how huge, bearded men, with the snow of the steppes still clinging to their boots, were landing by thousands to ultimately take up their position on the Western Front and so check the advance of the victorious German armies. That item of "news" was allowed to go through, but how far it affected the enemy plans we shall never know. There was no truth in the story but it certainly caused a great deal of concern to the German General Staff.

He had been given very little training in espionage, and his only means of communication with his superiors in Germany was by telegrams and letters to neutral countries. He sent a number of telegrams using a simple code, but other highly incriminating messages were sent in plain text without any coding. He did not know that MI5 was monitoring letters and telegrams abroad, or that his messages would be intercepted.

Apparently recognising that hotels were dangerous places for spies, Lody took private lodgings, and with a bicycle spent a fortnight searching for places of naval interest around Edinburgh. He cycled a good deal around and aroused more than common curiosity by the questions he asked. To his landlady he was merely an American sightseer, a role borne out by his strong American accent. Because of poor training, he failed to take the most simple precautions to conceal his intentions.

This letter was sent by Lody on 14 September 1914, enclosing a newspaper cutting and describing it as "typical for the English (sic) way of causing ill-feeling and at the same time characteristic of the perfect ignorance of journalists in this country regarding the difference between military weapons and military tools. But this does not make any difference - the people here believe everything".

The envelopes were sent by Lody from Edinburgh on 26 September 1914. The first envelope was sent to Stockholm, the second envelope, which enclosed a letter, was concealed inside the first and was addressed to Lody's controllers in Berlin.

From Edinburgh he came to London, staying at a Bloomsbury hotel, still in the guise of an American tourist. Lody took the greatest interest in anti-aircraft defences, the covering of the Houses of Parliament, Buckingham Palace, the Bank of , and other places with strong wire netting being duly reported by him to Stockholm.

But, unfortunately for Lody, the messages were being intercepted. Even at that early stage of the war our postal censorship was in fair working order.

In London, he once again made blunders in seeking information by approaching people at military installations and bluntly asked them questions that would unquestionably draw suspicion. After drawing an inordinate amount of attention to himself while scouting out British military installations, Lody moved on again, returning to Scotland.

On 26 September he left the Scottish capital and journeyed to . where the business of fitting out big ocean liners as auxiliary cruisers was in full preparation. The spy used his technical knowledge to the full here, and made it the subject of a subsequent communication to the German Secret Service in Berlin. From Liverpool he went to Holyhead, there to take boat for Ireland. A challenge of his identity brought him a momentary blanching of the cheek, but he was permitted to land, and went to the Gresham Hotel, Dublin, a great resort of Americans visiting Ireland, where he wrote a letter to Burchard, which shows that he was beginning to get frightened.

"As I mentioned in my last letter it is absolutely necessary for me to disappear for some time, because several people have approached me in a disagreeable manner. This has happened not to me only, but to several other Americans, who have told me they are watched. Fear of espionage is very great, and one meets a spy in every stranger, I chose the route Liverpool-Holyhead-Dublin on purpose in order to make observations."

Lody travelled to Dublin on 29 September, and took the opportunity to write a detailed letter in German describing ships in the harbour at Liverpool and conversations that he had overheard. Unlike some of his earlier letters, it contained information of real military value to the Germans, but was written without any coding. Postal censors intercepted the letter and MI5 decided to order his arrest.

Of all the spies who carne to Britain, Carl Lady was easily the best equipped, but possibly the most poorly trained. He wrote all his letters to Sweden quite openly, in both English and German, using ordinary long-hand, and never even utilized an invisible ink. Most of the information he sent to his employers was of comparatively little value.

Lody described what he had seen in his travels - the armament of ships, the defences on the Firth of Forth and around Rosyth, and details of bombardments.

From Dublin, he travelled to Killarney, presumably on his way to Queenstown. The Edinburgh police carried out an urgent investigation that uncovered the movements of "Charles Inglis" and identified his hotel in Dublin. He had travelled there with the intention of "disappearing for some time", in the awareness that he was under suspicion.

Apparently the authorities had decided it was time to arrest him, for on 2 October he was detained by the Royal Irish Constabulary to await the arrival of detectives from Scotland Yard. In his kit-bag was found the forged passport, £145 in Bank of England notes, £30 in gold, some German gold and Norwegian notes, and a note-book with particulars of the naval fight in the which had occurred a few weeks previously, addresses in Berlin, Stockholm, and Hamburg, and copies of his four communications to the man Burchard in Stockholm.

The police discovered Lody's true identity when they found a tailor's ticket in his jacket bearing his real name and an address in Berlin. That evidence alone was sufficient to have condemned him.

After his arrest Lody was brought to London, and was tried by court-martial at the Guildhall, Westminster, on 30 and 31 October.

In a well-cut blue serge suit he stood in the dock looking more clerk than spy, with flushed, clean- shaven face and deep, bespectacled eyes, betraying the closest interest in the proceedings. Lody's counsel did not dispute the evidence against him, and stated to the court that his client simply represented one who had done his duty and leaves the consequences entirely in their hands.

His grandfather had been a great soldier who had held a fortress against Napoleon, and it was in that spirit that he wished to stand before his judges that day. He did not wish to cringe for mercy, and was not ashamed of anything he had done, and would accept the decision of the court - whatever it might be - as the decision of just and righteous men.

The accused man was found guilty and sentenced to death, the execution taking place five days later.

Before he died Lody was permitted to write a letter to his relatives in Stuttgart, as follows, "My Dear Ones, I have trusted in God and He has decided, my hour has come, and I must start on the journey through. the Dark Valley like so many of my comrades in this terrible war of nations. May my life be honoured as a humble offering on the altar of the Fatherland. A hero's death on the battlefield is certainly finer, but such is not to be my lot, and I die here in the enemy's country, silent and unknown. But the consciousness that I die in the service of the Fatherland makes death easy. The supreme court-martial of London has sentenced me to death for military conspiracy. Tomorrow I shall be shot here in the Tower, I have had just judges, and I shall die as an officer, not as a spy. Farewell. God bless you. Hans."

He also wrote a letter to his guards, as follows, "London, November 5th, 1914. . To the Commanding Officer of the 3rd Battalion , Wellington Barracks. Sir, I feel it my duty as a German officer to express my sincere thanks and appreciation towards the staff of officers and men who were in charge of my person during my confinement. Their kind and considered treatment has earned my highest esteem and admiration as regards good fellowship even towards the enemy, and if I may be permitted, I would thank you for making this known to them, I am Sir, with profound respect, Carl Hans Lody, Senior Lieutenant Imperial German Naval Res. 11D."

Lody left a ring to be forwarded to a lady in America, which was duly sent and acknowledged. It is understood that, following the usual practice with their spies, the German Government had insured Lody's life for £3,000. this sum going to his relatives.

There is no doubt that his character was a fine one. His demeanour evoked the keenest admiration from all who came in contact with him, and his death was a matter of regret even to those people to whom the name of a spy is anathema.

A few months afterwards, when his end had become known in Germany, he became something of a national hero, and the townspeople of his native village planted an oak, to be known for evermore as the "Lody".

Frederick Parker Dunbar

One of the most mysterious characters to be dealt with in the early days of the war was a German naval officer by the name of Frederick Parker Dunbar, who was found wandering around Scotland in 1914.

Dunbar was not German born. He was of American origin and had served twenty-one years in the German Navy. According to his own story he had recently resigned from the Navy and had come to Great Britain for the purpose of seeing his son, a boy of sixteen who was being educated in this country. But there were circumstance connected with the case which seemed to preclude Dunbar's story being true.

He was carrying a false passport in the name of William Culden, which was enough to condemn him in the eyes of most, as people whose intentions are straightforward do not need to carry false passports in the time of war.

The conclusion was that Captain Dunbar was a naval spy of some importance. He told of the different commands he had held, and they were sufficiently onerous to confirm that German naval captains, even though their country of birth might have been America, do not wander around in the neighbourhood of the Grand Fleet without some sinister motive.

Unfortunately the case was badly bungled from the start. Dunbar was arrested by the Scottish police before he had been permitted to commit himself to something in writing.

He was brought to London in due course and underwent several strict interrogations, but no evidence was gleaned to put him on trial as a spy, so in default he was placed in an internment camp for the duration of the war.

Georg Traugott Breeckow and Lizzie Wertheim

George Traugott Breeckow was born in Stettin (then in Germany) in 1882. His father was born in Riga, and became a German citizen. Breeckow followed his father into the piano trade, later travelling to the USA and becoming an American citizen. Following the death of his father, Breeckow returned to Germany on 28 May 1914.

Following a short period of time working for a bank, he tried to obtain work as an Imperial Messenger, or courier, to neutral countries, especially the USA. Breeckow was sent a new passport which allowed him to travel to Antwerp. While there, Breeckow made several requests about travel to the USA, but his employers in the Bureau of Foreign Affairs (based in Berlin) told him to wait and that there was no rush. After being told that they were unsure of the situation regarding American-German relations, Breeckow was told that he would first have to go to Britain.

They told him that as his existing passport had a Berlin stamp, he would be issued with a new passport in the name of Reginald Rowland. He was also told to travel to The Hague and meet a Mr Dierks. When he arrived in Rotterdam, Breeckow travelled to The Hague where he met Dierks who, as previously agreed, arranged a business cover for Breeckow.

Finally, Breeckow arrived at Gravesend on 11 May 1915. He travelled to London where he booked into the Ivanhoe Hotel, Bloomsbury Street.

During the time he was in London Breeckow spent an enjoyable holiday in the West End, where he was a regular patron of the more expensive restaurants and cafes. Speaking very fair English, the German accent of which was partially disguised by a liberal sprinkling of Americanisms, he managed to pass muster with quite a number of well-known people as Reginald Rowland, a well-to-do American travelling in Britain on business.

He sent a letter to his contact, a lady called Mrs Wertheim, making an appointment to meet her on 13 May 1915. Mrs Wertheim had been recruited by German Intelligence while she was attempting to return home, but became trapped in Amsterdam, with a failed marriage and short of money. Breeckow had been informed that she was prepared to act as his accomplice. The German Secret Service, forewarned by the fate which had overtaken their previous spies, thought that a woman might be able to obtain intelligence where a man would only arouse suspicion.

Lizzie Wertheim, who was living in a Bloomsbury boarding house, had been in England for some years. She had acquired British nationality by marrying a naturalised German, who had long ago tired of the immoral life she was addicted to and had separated from her, so that there was in excellent chance of her being able to travel around Britain without attracting too much attention. She was a stout, well-dressed woman, with a fondness for the grosser pleasures of life, and she welcomed the arrival of Breeckow, who had plenty of money to spend, as a gift from the Gods.

Mrs Wertheim is believed to have been born in Berlin where, before her marriage in 1902 with Bruno Wertheim (the son of a naturalised British subject), she is reported to have been supported by a wealthy lover. She had led a somewhat roving life, and seemed to be equally at home in Berlin, The Hague, Amsterdam, or London, where she had distant relatives, who showed no desire to be on friendly terms with her.

Breeckow and Mrs Wertheim arranged several meetings in various parts of London. Before proceeding with their spying, the pair indulged in a conspicuous lifestyle. They would hire horses of a morning and take the air in Rotten Row along with the aristocracy and at lunch time repair to a fashionable cafe where they would intermingle with the cosmopolitan crowd always to be found in such places about the middle of the day. It would appear that Mrs Wertheim began to develop extravagant habits, so much so that her male companion complained to her and eventually mentioned the fact to his German employers. She insisted that it was necessary to maintain the dignity of her pose to travel first class and have a maid, and when she and Breeckow went to Bournemouth on 22 May 1915, the couple booked in at the Grand Hotel, taking separate rooms. Breeckow used his alias of Reginald Rowland, and Wertheim registered as Lizzie Wertheim, born in London.

While in Bournemouth, Breeckow had written on a copy of the Star and Echo newspaper an invisible message about various troop transports arriving at Southampton. This was posted to H Flores at 127a Binneweg, Rotterdam, along with copies of other newspapers. These packages were intercepted by the British Security Services, who quickly realised that another spy was working in the UK.

Following their stay in Bournemouth, they returned to London on 3 June 1915, with Breeckow staying at the Imperial Hotel in London, and Wertheim staying at 62 Hammersmith Road. It was arranged that Mrs Wertheim should do the spying and that her accomplice should forward the information received to Holland. With that purpose the lady travelled to Scotland and visited various towns along the Firth of Forth. She hired a car and began travelling around to pick up what news she could concerning the Grand Fleet. The plan was certainly not a bad one, for who was to suspect a well- dressed woman, apparently of British nationality, of being interested in naval matters.

Mrs Wertheim appears to have spent quite an interesting time in Scotland. She patronised all the best hotels, and made herself more than agreeable to those naval officers with whom she came in contact. But she was far from discreet for some of her questions so aroused suspicion that she was arrested by Detective Inspectors Edmund Buckley and Herbert Finch on 9 June 1915. When her possessions were searched, a letter was found addressed to one of Breeckow's aliases which led to his arrest at his hotel by Detective Inspector Herbert Finch. The pair, protesting volubly that a mistake had been made, were brought to Scotland Yard to be interrogated as to their business in Britain. While examining Breeckow's property, some rice paper was found hidden inside a shaving brush. On this paper, in Breeckow's handwriting, were the details of several Royal Navy vessels

Breeckow's torrent of explanations revealed his German accent too clearly although he claimed to be an American subject and had only come to Britain to further his musical studies. All the time the examination was going on he appeared to gradually be losing his nerve. As the questioning continued his anxiety grew and as one damaging fact after another was established he would ask his interrogator what was to be the result of it all. At the finish he burst into tears and, sobbing through his hands, pleaded with his captors to have mercy on him, if only for the sake of his aged mother.

Mrs Wertheim proved to be of much sterner stuff. She would admit nothing, claimed that as a British citizen she had a perfect right to travel where she wanted and was so brazen that if she and Breeckow had arranged to tell the same story it would have been quite convincing.

Any doubt that Breeckow was a spy was dissipated when his passport came to be examined. The texture of the paper was dissimilar to that used in American passports and its size was not quite the same. The red seal, when touched with acid, proved to be different from those which were known to be genuine, while the American Eagle on the official seal had been drawn with an inverted claw and without enough feathers in his tail. Also, an inquiry was sent to Washington, where it was ascertained that no passport had ever been issued to anyone named Reginald Rowland.

Bit by bit the activities of this interesting couple were gradually revealed. While under interrogation Breeckow stoutly maintained that he could not speak German, knew no Germans in America, and had never served in the German Army. He had displayed a certain amount of confidence while there seemed a chance of release but, once in the lonely prison cell, terrified at the things his female accomplice might tell, his fears so played upon his fertile imagination that he sent for the Governor of the prison and requested that he might be supplied with pen and paper for the purpose of making a confession. The admission of his guilt told everything of his past life, concluding with a passionate appeal for mercy.

Both Breeckow and Wertheim were tried together at the Old Bailey in London, on 14 to 17 September 1915. Both pleaded not guilty to the charges, although during the trial Breeckow admitted a great deal which protected Wertheim. The jury took just eight minutes to decided that both of them were guilty. Wertheim was sentenced to ten years imprisonment, and Breeckow was sentenced to death by shooting. Breeckow's appeal to the Court of Criminal Appeal, and petition to King George V were all refused.

During the period between his sentence being passed, and his execution Breeckow spent his remaining days in a completely broken existence.

He was led to the execution spot in a near state of collapse, and when sat in the wooden chair within the Tower's Rifle Range, he requested that his eyes be bound with a lady's silk handkerchief. As this was not large enough to go round his head, it was attached to the usual bandage and then around his head. He was shivering with fright, and was in a very agitated state.

At 7.00 am on 26 October 1915, Breeckow was shot by a firing squad composed of members of the 3rd Battalion Scots Guards. It was subsequently decided at the inquest that Breeckow had died of heart failure before the bullets of the firing party had reached his chest.

Wertheim was initially sent to Aylesbury Prison, but during 1918 she was certified as insane and transferred to Broadmoor Criminal Lunatic Asylum. Her behaviour and general medical condition became worse and she died of pulmonary tuberculosis on 29 July 1920.

Augusto Alfredo Roggen

Augusto Alfredo Roggen's father was a German who had become a Uruguayan citizen in 1885, and was married to a German lady. He had a good command of English.

Roggen sailed from Rotterdam on the Batavia, arriving at Tilbury Docks on 30 May 1915. After disembarking from the ship, Roggen told the Aliens' Officer that he intended to travel to Scotland. Roggen was allowed to proceed, arriving in Edinburgh on 5 June 1915.

After arriving at the hotel, he stated on the hotel registration that he was a farmer, and that he was interested in agricultural vehicles. Roggen had visited some agricultural companies in London, but they were suspicious about his apparent lack of references or even knowledge of horses.

Later the next day, Roggen got into conversation with the Hotel Manager's wife, asking about going around the Trossachs and the availability of local hotels. He also expressed a keenness about fishing, although he had no fishing equipment with him.

Before leaving Edinburgh, Roggen sent two postcards to Holland. They were both intercepted, as they had been sent to addresses familiar to the British Security Services. They were copied and then allowed to carry on their postal journey.

On 9 June 1915, Roggen booked into the Tarbet Hotel at Loch Lomond. He purchased a map of Loch Lomond and the head of Loch Long, part of the Firth of Clyde. Loch Long was significant as it was a restricted area, and fishing was banned. It had previously been used for testing torpedoes.

By this time, British Security Service had become concerned, and so later on 9 June 1915, Roggen was arrested at his new hotel by Superintendent John Wright. Roggen was taken to London, where he and his luggage were handed over to Inspector Edmund Buckley (Special Branch).

Roggen was found to be possession of a Browning revolver with 50 rounds of ammunition, together with fluids used for writing invisible messages. He was also unable or unwilling to explain the postcards sent to known enemy espionage addresses.

Roggen was tried by court martial at Westminster on 20 August 1915. He gave no evidence and made no statement. He was found guilty and sentenced to death by shooting, although his original execution was postponed, as the Uruguayan Ambassador sent a note to the . However, it was felt that there was nothing in the note, which could change the sentence.

Roggen was shot by a firing squad composed of members of the 3rd Battalion Scot Guards. The execution took place at 6.00 am on 17 September 1915. It was observed that Roggen faced death as a brave man, marching to the chair with a defiant air, refusing to have his eyes blindfolded.

Sources: German Spies at Bay. A Record of German Espionage in Great Britain 1914- 1918 by Sidney Theodore Felstead (1920); The Scotsman.