The European War produced many German criminals, but the most resourceful of them all was Martha Kupfer, a middle-aged widow with a plausible manner and a pretty daughter, whose only capital was a profound knowledge of the weaknesses of her compatriots, out of which she made over £200,000 before she was arrested. She obtained this fortune in less than a couple of years, and there is every reason to believe that had she not grown careless she would never have been detected.

Anybody who is conversant with the German people must be aware that they worship three gods—Food, Money and Decorations. Every Hun before the war would have sold his soul for a medal, and although the ex-Kaiser cheapened the Iron Cross and similar gew-gaws by his lavish and ridiculous bestowal of them, they are still prized in Prussia.

When the Allies proclaimed a blockade of Germany, they incidentally turned the thoughts of all true Huns to food, not only because they are the heaviest, grossest and coarsest eaters in Europe, but because the rising prices clearly indicated an easy way to wealth for speculators. Money and food, therefore, were supreme, and decorations were temporarily forgotten.

An elderly Bavarian four years ago, summed up the situation neatly: "There are two things a German cannot escape—Death and the Iron Cross." He got six months in gaol for his humour. Frau Kupfer, a stoutish little woman with a smiling face and large blue eyes, was one of the many who pondered over the situation. She was poor, and struggling hard to make both ends meet, and she listened with envy and attention to the various stories her neighbours told of the fortunes dealers in food were accumulating. They all wished they had the opportunity to share in their profits, and they spoke wistfully of money invested in banks and insurance companies which were paying miserably small dividends whilst corn dealers and grocers were turning their capital over in less than a month!

As the woman watched the bloated faces grow red and the dull eyes light up with greed, she realized that if only she could persuade them to believe that she had the power to buy and import provisions on wholesale lines and retail them at exorbitant prices to the community they would gladly entrust her with their savings, and she and her daughter would have a good time and never want again.

This was in the early part of 1915, when Martha Kupfer was living in a poverty-stricken flat in Leipzig. She thought the matter over for some days, and at last decided to enter upon a swindling career. She was certain that she had found a royal road to riches, and believing that she would do better in the metropolis she made preparations to live in Berlin.

But she had first to raise at least a hundred pounds to pay her expenses. It would not do to begin without capital, for if she looked poor she would not be able to influence the well-to-do, and she had, therefore, to try her hand in her native town. Frau Kupfer's first exploit was characteristic. She went to the widow of a doctor whom she knew to have a considerable sum in the bank, and she told her a wonderful story of how Wertheim, the great Berlin merchant, had sent for her to act as buyer for his grocery department because she had special facilities for getting the Danish farmers to sell cheaply to her. She added that she was to have half the profits, and she finally persuaded the old lady to part with five hundred pounds by promising that every month she would receive from her interest amounting to fifty pounds! This was at the rate of 120 per cent per annum! The doctor's widow was too good a German to be able to resist the temptation. She handed over the money, and Frau Kupfer and her daughter went to Berlin to start the great campaign.

Thanks to the capital provided by the credulous widow, Frau Kupfer was in a position to rent an expensive flat close to the one-time palatial building known as the British Embassy. Then she did a little shopping, and the outcome of this was that her neighbours—and Germans are renowned for their curiosity—began to babble excitedly about the fashionably-dressed widow and her daughter, who were obviously persons of great wealth.

Frau Kupfer and Gertrude wore the latest gowns, and their hats were wonderful. Every morning a beautifully-appointed motor-car took them for drives, and the two servants—being patriotic, she restricted herself to a couple—exhibited to their friends, when their mistress was out, cards bearing the names of some of the greatest personages in Berlin. Princesses, countesses, generals, admirals, and hosts of the nobility, learned professors, and several millionaire business men and their wives appeared to be on calling terms with the new-comers.

Meanwhile, Frau Kupfer and Gertrude went their own way, seeking no acquaintances, but always charming and good-tempered and charitable.

The fact was that Frau Kupfer knew that to attract people one must appear not to want them. They must come to the gilded parlour of their own accord, but until she was quite ready to swindle them she must pretend not to be anxious to extend her "large circle of acquaintances." It seems unnecessary to add that the cards which so impressed the servants were fakes. Curiously enough, it was a doctor who started the ball rolling in Berlin. About this time the Berlin newspapers were full of fictitious stories of German victories on land and sea. Twice already it had been reported that Zeppelins had wiped London out of existence, and the daily boast of the papers was that Great Britain had ceased to rule the waves, her ships having been destroyed by the gallant German Navy.

But while the Huns believed anything they wished to believe these flattering reports did not make bread and meat more plentiful, and the food difficulties were increasing instead of diminishing. Only a few persons wondered how it was that London could have been rebuilt between the first and second Zeppelin raids. The majority accepted each lie with delightful simplicity. But only the rich experienced no privations, and Frau Kupfer and pretty Fraulein Gertrude were apparently very well off, for they, at any rate, did not want for the necessaries or the luxuries of life.

One morning, however, Frau Kupfer pretended that she had a headache, and she summoned by telephone a Dr. Richter, a physician who has one of the largest and most fashionable practices in Berlin. Now the doctor, being a near neighbour of the Kupfers, had heard the rumours of their wealth, and he obeyed the summons with alacrity. He found Frau Kupfer charming and amiable, apologizing a dozen times for giving him so much trouble, and murmuring that she was suffering from overwork.

The doctor was sympathetic, and when Gertrude brought him some refreshment he was only too eager to linger over it as his patient chattered. He was curious to discover the secret of her wealth, and as she talked volubly Frau Kupfer "unconsciously" gave him the desired information.

"My agents in Denmark," she said, with a wan smile, "are angry with me because I can't take all the food they have bought on my account. You see, Herr Doctor, I lived for many years in Denmark, and when the war broke out and those terrible English began their blockade it occurred to me that I could help my beloved country by importing food from Denmark, especially as I have unique facilities, owing to the largest farmers being related to me. I didn't mean to make money, but I find that the shops in Berlin are so anxious to buy that they will pay any price. I can turn my capital over ten times a month.

"It seems that there are enormous profits waiting to be picked up, but I haven't the necessary capital. I am quite content, but my agents think I am foolish not to raise another hundred thousand pounds and make as much a month by using it. You have no idea the money that can be coined, but, of course, one must know how to work it." She laid a hand on the doctor's arm and looked at him appealingly. "I have spoken candidly, because I know I can trust you, Herr Doctor," she added, in a musical undertone. "You won't tell your friends, will you? I am only a widow, and I don't want to be bothered. I am quite content with the present profits, they will enable me to complete my darling child's education and give her a large dowry when she marries."

The doctor hastened to assure her that her secret was safe with him. Then he took his departure, and it happened that his next patient was Countess von Hohn, the wife of General Count von Hohn, an aide-de-camp to the Kaiser, and a first cousin of Prince von BÜlow, the ex-Chancellor. To her the doctor revealed the great secret, knowing that the countess loved money better than life itself. As he anticipated he fired her imagination, and she instantly commanded him to bring about a meeting between herself and the wonderful Frau Kupfer.

"I have twenty thousand pounds lying idle at my banker's," she said, and in her excitement she forgot that she was ill, and began to walk up and down the apartment. "Frau Kupfer, you say, can turn it into forty thousand within three months? I must see her at once. Herr Doctor, send your wife to call on her, and after that, when she's at your house, you can ring me up on the telephone, and I will hasten round. If this war goes on against Germany, it behoves us to have something to fall back upon. Everybody knows that dealers in provisions are amassing fortunes. Why shouldn't I have some of the profits too?"

Of course there was no difficulty in effecting an introduction to Frau Kupfer. The two met at Dr. Richter's house at afternoon tea, and Countess von Hohn made herself very charming to the widow, whose dress and jewellery must have cost a small fortune. Indeed, they became so cordial that, although this was their first meeting, the countess willingly accepted an invitation to call at Frau Kupfer's flat the following afternoon.

When she arrived she was shown into the magnificently furnished drawing-room, and there she was purposely left alone for a few minutes. During that time the inquisitive, money-mad woman searched the room for signs of wealth. There were many to be found.

On the mantelpiece was a letter from the manager of the Deutsche Bank acknowledging a deposit of sixty thousand pounds; on a costly desk was a letter from another bank informing Frau Kupfer that their Copenhagen correspondents had advised them to place to her credit one hundred and eleven pounds. Other papers and letters were in the same strain, and when the countess had mastered their contents she was positively trembling with anxiety to get a finger in the financial pie belonging to her newly-made friend.

It was against all etiquette for the countess to be left unattended in the drawing-room, but when Frau Kupfer, clothed in a glorious tea-gown, fluttered in and began to apologize most profusely and extravagantly for her neglect and rudeness, the countess, who would in any other circumstances have been furious, hastened to reassure her.

"These are war-times, Frau Kupfer," she said, with a smile, "and we can afford to dispense with etiquette. I assure you I have not been sorry for the opportunity to inspect your beautiful furniture and pictures."

Martha Kupfer smiled in acknowledgment, but she knew what her visitor had been doing. One glance had told her that the letters on the table and the mantelpiece had been touched. They were not in the same position that she had left them in. Her little ruse had succeeded, for she had purposely baited the room with these letters and given the countess plenty of time to read them.

Tea was served, and a short time was spent in conversation, in which Gertrude Kupfer discreetly joined, but at the right moment she made an excuse and went out.

The countess was relieved. She had been unable to touch any of the expensive cakes owing to her anxiety to get to business. The moment Gertrude had gone she mentioned the subject uppermost in her mind.

"My dear Frau Kupfer," she said, in her most winning manner, "I want you to promise not to be angry with me if I ask you to let me invest twenty thousand pounds in your little provision enterprise."

Frau Kupfer started and looked embarrassed.

"I feel as if we had known one another for years; you can trust me," she added, appealingly.

But the swindler did not speak, and the countess proceeded:

"I am sure you need capital. Why not let me help?"

Suddenly Frau Kupfer looked up at her.

"You are right, countess," she said, with a charming blush. "It would be selfish of me to deny my friends a share of the profits. I will take your money, and you shall have ten per cent on it every month. I am making that and more. "Do you know that I can import bacon, for which the people of Berlin pay eight shillings a pound for less than a shilling a pound? The profits on flour are bigger, and I can get a hundred per cent on soap and candles, and practically everything of which the English are trying to deprive us. I have a contract to supply three palaces of the Kaiser's with provisions for a year. You see, I am protected in high quarters. Of course, His Majesty is paying the highest price for the very best, and on that contract alone I shall make thirty shillings profit on every pound I spend. I liked you countess, from the moment we met. You shall have a share. It is a pity you have not more money saved, because that would mean a bigger return. However, you can reinvest your dividends."

Within forty-eight hours the twenty thousand pounds which the Countess von Hohn had received by the sale of her British and French securities was in the hands of Frau Kupfer.

I should mention that six weeks before the war started the German Foreign Minister notified all those who could be trusted to keep the secret that they had better realize their investments in Great Britain, France and Russia. As the countess' husband was one of the inner set, he got the information early, and was able to save his own and his wife's fortune.

This unexpected windfall delighted Frau Kupfer and Gertrude. The first thing they did was to send fifty pounds' "interest" to the doctor's widow at Leipzig, and the second to take a larger and better flat, retaining their original residence, however, and using it mainly as a hiding-place for the choicest provisions.

Frau Kupfer paid her two maids lavishly and fed them luxuriously, and they were hers body and soul in a city where famine threatened to stalk abroad. It was easy, therefore, to stock the flat with preserves, bacon, ham, wines, cigars, cigarettes and soap, besides a huge amount of clothing.

The stock was replenished from time to time, while now that their headquarters were at one of the finest flats in Berlin, Frau Kupfer and Gertrude were able to proceed from financial triumph to social triumph.

Countess von Hohn was promptly paid her first dividend of two thousand pounds a month after she had invested her money, but she promptly sent the cheque back with a request that it might be added to her capital.

Frau Kupfer must have screamed with laughter when she read this proof of how complete was her power over her first great dupe. She was, indeed, succeeding beyond her wildest dreams.

The widow at Leipzig also helped considerably, for she wrote to a rich and highly placed friend in Berlin about her luck, and that friend promptly called on Frau Kupfer, and begged to be permitted to invest in the great food trust. She found the woman entertaining half a dozen ladies, all of whom bore names that were household words in the country, and when she rather pettishly complained of being bothered she did not resent her manner, but became more supplicating than ever, and eventually went away poorer by a thousand pounds, which she had "invested."

Frau Kupfer was now fairly launched on a career of gigantic swindling. It was no longer necessary to pretend that she had tens of thousands of pounds at her bankers. It was a fact. The money simply poured in upon her every day.

All sorts and conditions of people clamoured to be allowed to join the secret food trust. They quite understood that everything had to be done quietly. The common people, who had no inkling of the tremendous profits that were being made by speculators in food, must be kept in ignorance lest they should complain, and the horrible Socialist papers make trouble for the profiteers.

Besides, as Frau Kupfer said, they must not forget that they were all partners in a scheme that was daily contravening the Government regulations as to maximum prices.

Thus the times were in her favour. The war dominated everybody's thoughts, and food was so scarce that it ceased to be a question of prices. All were willing to pay provided they obtained the provisions, and so with the necessity for secrecy and the blind, unquestioning obedience and trustfulness of her clients, Frau Kupfer's position seemed impregnable.

Six months after her arrival in Berlin Frau Kupfer launched out as a woman of fashion and means. She went everywhere. The nobility received her, and she was the constant companion of aristocratic dames, who gave her and her daughter seats in their boxes at the theatre.

No one could rival them in the art of dressing. It was the talk of fashionable Berlin that Frau Kupfer and Gertrude paid eighteen shillings a pair for stockings, and never wore them twice, and that they had the most expensive wardrobe in Germany. The swindler maintained the deception by giving dinners, for which the Élite scrambled to obtain invitations. The very rarest dishes and vintages were provided for her guests, and despite food restrictions Frau Kupfer could entertain as though there was not a war on and the British blockade a myth.

There might be food riots in Berlin, Leipzig, Hamburg and scores of other places, but the friends of the swindler never wanted for anything, and Frau Kupfer's dinners were her best protection against exposure. She was a charming hostess, and her sympathetic interest in the relatives of her guests who were in the trenches was enchanting. One of her most profitable deals arose out of her pretended interest in the son of a retired general who was introduced to her by the Countess von Hohn. General von Demidoff, a German of Polish extraction, was known to be a rich man. He had served for fifty years in the army, and had spent at least half that time enriching himself at the expense of the troops under him.

But although he must have had plenty of cash he did not succumb to Frau Kupfer's scheme as quickly as she expected. General von Demidoff—he won the coveted "von" in the Franco-Prussian War—was an old man, and he was reluctant to engage in hazardous speculation, but he was greatly pleased with Frau Kupfer and her daughter.

The arch-swindler never even hinted that he should take shares in the secret food trust, and as he got many luxurious dinners at her expense he was only too glad to number her amongst his acquaintances. They often met at the theatre or at the house of a mutual friend, and it was even rumoured that the old man was keen on the wealthy widow; but this was only an invention. Frau Kupfer had no desire for matrimony. She was aware that marriage would inevitably lead to the discovery of her colossal frauds.

But when Frau Kupfer began to talk about the general's son, and to ask permission to send him parcels of dainties, which she knew he could not obtain for himself, he thought that a woman with such a kind heart must be amongst the best of her sex, and although he took a month to make up his mind he finally decided to entrust ten thousand pounds to her for investment in her business.

When he called on her with this intention he found her reclining gracefully on a sofa reading, in the Lokalanzeiger, an account of the victory of the Crown Prince's Army at Verdun. Her eyes were shining with enthusiasm, and she was all smiles when General von Demidoff was announced.

For quite ten minutes she would not permit a word of business to pass his lips. He had to have a drink first—she had his favourite beverage ready in a few seconds—and then there was a variety of sandwiches for his delectation. The old soldier was always ready to eat, and he was feeling particularly pleased with himself, when he suddenly told his hostess that he wished to hand her ten thousand pounds for investment.

He made the announcement as though he were conferring a favour on her, and his amazement was all the greater when with a charming smile she coyly refused to accept his offer, explaining that she had all the capital she required, and that the "dear general" had better leave his money where it was.

He went away profoundly puzzled, little realizing that Frau Kupfer was actually gasping for money. She had run through tens of thousands of pounds. Certain wealthy investors had, much to her disappointment, decided not to reinvest their dividends, and had kept her cheques. Tradespeople, hit by the defalcations of other customers, had insisted upon being paid, and as her weekly expenses were never less than two hundred pounds it had not taken her long to get through a fortune.

Yet with admirable fortitude and a wonderful discernment of human nature, she had refused General von Demidoff's offer, although she was in grave financial and personal danger. But she knew her man. She was aware that he would tell the story to all his friends—and the general mixed only in the very best society—and, better than that, she was willing to stake her life, as she had done her liberty, that within a few days he would be back again with twenty thousand pounds at least, which he would literally thrust into her hands, and insist upon her keeping. I have given this story in detail because it is typical of the methods of Germany's greatest war swindler. It is taken from the account of the preliminary examination before the judge in Berlin, who at first would scarcely be brought to believe that the general had actually returned to Frau Kupfer's flat, and had compelled her to accept twenty-five thousand pounds for investment in her food trust.

The money came as a godsend, and once more the precious pair of swindlers were rejoicing. Of course, the mother was the brains of the movement. Gertrude Kupfer had nothing to do except to look pretty and wear the most costly clothes.

There were very few young men worth attracting to the flat for her mother to rob, though now and then she was able to relieve monetary pressure by bringing along a wounded officer of family and position who could be tempted to invest a few hundred pounds. Frau Kupfer, however, thought only in thousands, even if she was willing to take any money, however small in amount.

For over eighteen months the merry game continued. The great war increased in intenseness, and the world was topsy-turvy, but Frau Kupfer and Gertrude indulged in every extravagant pleasure, and swindled high and low alike. Some one had to pay for those champagne dinners, and for the clothes they wore. Gertrude Kupfer alone averaged fifty pounds a week on her wardrobe.

Frau Kupfer gave many lavish entertainments to wounded soldiers. Once she took the whole seating capacity of a theatre and filled the building with soldiers, and while mother and daughter were at the zenith of success they must have given tea-parties to thousands of warriors.

The money dribbled through their fingers like water, and fresh dupes had to be found almost daily to pay the interest due to the original investors. The smallest interest promised had been one hundred per cent per annum, and for many months the widow managed to remit the amount owing. It was a wonderful feat considering the circumstances, but she stopped at nothing, and she even swindled the maidservants out of their savings.

One of her brightest ideas was to patronize the small tradespeople, and thus bring them under her influence. In due course they succumbed, and sums from ten to two hundred pounds were obtained from them.

Nothing worried Germany's "Madame Humbert." Berlin was thronged with wounded; the papers were beginning to give hints of defeats; and it was admitted that a complete victory for the Fatherland was out of the question—but Frau Kupfer was unperturbed. She was merry and light-hearted, and she lived so well that her naturally plump face and stout figure expanded, and she was a living testimony to the ineffectiveness of the British blockade. Her circle of friends continued to grow. Her dinner-parties were all the more appreciated. She was one of the most sought after persons in Berlin society, and in the hour of her triumph she never thought of the dark, underground dungeons that are so numerous in Germany. It seemed as though she could never know defeat, no matter what happened to her country.

Christmas Day, 1916, found Berlin a city of gloom, save for the gorgeous flat where Frau Kupfer was entertaining a score of high-born society dames and a few elderly men to a sumptuous repast. It proved to be the last of a long series, for she was taken ill after the dinner, and for the next three weeks was too ill to leave her room, and in those three weeks the Berlin police discovered all about the great swindle. An accident led to the catastrophe.

I have mentioned that Frau Kupfer had two flats, and that she used the smaller one as a storing place for provisions for her own use. One evening a vigilant-eyed policeman, who was feeling hungry, noticed that several large parcels were being delivered at a certain flat near the Wilhelmstrasse. He had been warned to keep a look-out for food hoarders, and he came to the conclusion that this was an attempt to evade the regulations. He therefore forced his way past the carters into the flat, and, having ordered the terrified maid to clear out, examined the place for himself. It did not take him long to discover enough provisions to stock a grocer's shop. There were scores of hams, thousands of preserves neatly stacked against the walls, boxes of cigars, cigarettes, cases of wine, and plenty of flour, sugar, sweets, etc. I fancy the policeman indulged in a good meal before he reported to Police President von Jagow what he had found.

That night Frau Kupfer and her daughter were arrested on a charge of contravening the food regulations, and with their arrest the bubble burst. The "investors," first uneasy, grew alarmed, and began to talk. A few days later they all knew that they had been swindled.

Inside two years Frau Kupfer had robbed them of two hundred thousand pounds, all of which she had managed to dissipate, leaving nothing for them. The Food Trust had had no existence save in her imagination. Mother and daughter are now in damp cells in the Moabit Prison, and when Frau Kupfer leaves that ghastly prison house she will be in her coffin, for in Germany swindling is considered ten times a greater offence than murder, however brutal that murder may have been, and the greatest of Hun food swindlers will spend the remainder of her life in prison.

Gertrude Kupfer, however, will be released in a few years because it has been held that she acted entirely under the influence of her mother, and was in no way an originator of the swindle.