ESPIONAGE: Thank You, My Lord

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"Call on him," said the Chief Justice.. Fuchs stood up in the dock, read a statement from notes in a high, tinny voice, barely intelligible underneath his heavy German accent. "I have had a fair trial," he said, "and I wish to thank you, My Lord . . ." Then Lord Goddard leaned forward on his bench; a chill passed through the courtroom.

A Spot of Color. "You have betrayed the hospitality and protection given to you [by Britain] with the grossest treachery . . ." said Lord Goddard, hard-voiced, "your object being to strengthen that creed which then was known to be inimical to all freedom-loving countries . . . You have imperiled the right of asylum which this country has hitherto extended. Dare we now give shelter to political refugees who may be followers of this pernicious creed?-. . . You might have imperiled the good relations between this country and the great American republic with whom His Majesty is allied . . . It is not so much for punishment that I impose [the penalty], for punishment to a man of your mentality means nothing. My duty is to safeguard this country."

Then Lord Goddard imposed the maximum sentence under British law—14 years.

For a moment Fuchs stood still in the dock, then a warder tapped him on the back and he turned, mechanically tapping his yellow note sheets into a neat pile which he slipped into his coat pocket. As he left the court, for the first time since he had faced justice Fuchs's pale cheeks showed spots of color—of excitement or possibly of shame.

The procedure had taken one hour and 28 minutes.

Britain was staggered by the realization that, in checking the political reliability of a top scientist working on the atom bomb, British security agents had simply ignored the fact—written black on white in a government file—that he had been a Communist. An indignant tornado swept up from Fleet Street. Lord Beaverbrook's papers even accused newly appointed War Minister John Strachey of being a Communist (see FOREIGN NEWS). Sir Percy Sillitoe, the tall, burly former South African police officer who heads M.I.5 (British counterespionage), conferred with Prime Minister Attlee; a shake-up of British security services was due. The British, no longer supercilious over U.S. "spy hysteria," ordered rechecking of personnel records in all government departments. Grumbled the Manchester Guardian: "Luckily, the Americans were not sleeping too . . . The slowness of the British government's detectives is something which the free world will not forget or forgive in a hurry .. ."