[1][2] Lody began an apprenticeship at a grocery store in Halle in 1891, before moving to Hamburg two years later to join the crew of the sailing ship Sirius as a cabin boy.

The relationship became so close that in July 1914, just before the outbreak of the war, the HAL's director Albert Ballin told the Admiralstab that he would "place myself and the organisation subordinate to me at your Excellency's disposal as best as possible.

He was to travel along the Scottish coast and report on the warships stationed there; "If or when Mr. Lody comes to know that a naval battle has taken place, he will enquire as much and unobtrusively as possible regarding losses, damage etc."

In 1909 a series of spy scares fanned by the press led to the establishment of the Secret Service Bureau, jointly headed by Captain Vernon Kell and Lieutenant-Commander Mansfield Cumming.

He left his Edinburgh hotel on 1 September, and moved to a boarding-house in Drumsheugh Gardens, where he gave his name as Charles A. Inglis of New York City and paid as a weekly boarder.

He had obtained details of the naval vessels simply by climbing Calton Hill in Edinburgh and observing the panorama from the summit, and by taking a promenade along the seafront at Grangemouth, used by thousands of citizens as a popular excursion.

This time it was merely a wrapper containing a second envelope, inside which was a letter addressed to the editor of a Berlin newspaper, Ullstein Verlag,[35] in which Lody said: Enclosed cutting from the Edinburgh The News of the World.

[b][35]This too was intercepted and photographed but, as it was a relatively harmless letter, it was forwarded on while the British authorities continued to monitor Lody's communications in the hope of finding out more about the German espionage network.

[38] On 27 September, Lody wrote another letter in German to "Burchard", enclosing press cuttings about the chivalry of British seamen and the sinking of the cruisers HMS Aboukir, Cressy and Hogue.

[20] During his journey to Ireland, Lody met a Minneapolis doctor, John William Lee, who had been studying eye, ear, nose and throat diseases in Vienna before the outbreak of war had compelled him to leave.

Lee was planning to travel back to New York aboard the RMS Baltic, leaving Queenstown (now Cobh) on 7 October, and intended to spend a few days exploring Ireland before his departure.

[42] While Lee was exchanging some money at Thomas Cook on 30 September, Lody wrote a further letter in German to "Burchard", clarifying his reasons for coming to Ireland and describing what he had seen on his journey.

[42]Lody described anti-Zeppelin precautions he had heard about in London and provided details of the conversions of the Cunard Line steamships RMS Aquitania and Lusitania for their wartime service, which he had seen while in Liverpool.

The detective found that Lody had stayed at the Roxburgh Hotel and was shown his luggage, which still had a label attached bearing the name and address Charles A. Inglis, Bedford House, 12 Drumsheugh Gardens.

There was some confusion about whether Haldane had really meant a court martial rather than a military tribunal, and the Adjutant General questioned whether DORA had limited the maximum punishment for espionage to penal servitude for life, rather than the death penalty.

Captain Reginald Drake, MO5(g)'s head of counter-espionage, wanted Lody to be tried secretly so that he could implement "an ingenious method for conveying false information to the enemy which depended on their not knowing which of their agents had been caught.

In both letters, the charge sheet stated that Lody had sought "to convey to a belligerent enemy of Great Britain, namely Germany" information relating to the UK's defences and preparations for war.

[50]The second day of the trial was interrupted when a young man whom The Times described as being "of foreign appearance"[58] was arrested and removed from the court on the orders of Captain Reginald "Blinker" Hall, the Director of Naval Intelligence.

The interloper was one Charles Stuart Nairne, an Irishman and former Royal Navy lieutenant whom Hall spotted in the public gallery and considered to be "either a lunatic or a very dangerous person".

[64] He contacted Major-General Henry Pipon, the Major of the Tower of London, to tell him: I have been directed to carry out the execution of the German Spy who has been convicted by General Court Martial.

"[60] A small procession formed up for the short journey to the rifle range, comprising Lody and his armed escort, the Tower's Chaplain and the eight-man firing squad.

It was altogether too cold-blooded for an ordinary stomach (particularly that of a soldier, who hates cold-bloodedness) to face with equanimity, and it is not too much to say that, of that sad little procession, the calmest and most composed member was the condemned man himself.

The Admiralstab recommended at the end of 1914 that he should be awarded a posthumous Iron Cross, Second Class, and argued that the recruitment of naval agents would be assisted if espionage could be rewarded with such a prestigious medal.

Woodhall, a former detective, collected accounts from officers who had been involved in the investigation and wrote in 1932: "They are unanimous in their admiration for his manly and brazen qualities, but they all criticise his amazing lack of caution ...

Thomas Boghardt notes the "exceptional" way in which Lody bore himself at his trial, pointing out that "virtually all other German agents accused of espionage understandably tried to deny or minimise their involvement with N".

[85] During the unveiling ceremony, which was attended by Lody's sister and representatives of the present Reichsmarine and old Imperial German Navy, the road leading from the gateway to the harbour was also renamed "Karl-Hans-Lody-Weg".

On the same day, officers from the Hamburg-America Line presented city officials with a ship's bell bearing the inscription "In Memory of Karl Hans Lody", to be rung each 6 November at the time of his death.

[85] After World War II, when Lübeck was part of the British Zone of Occupation, the statue was taken down and the niche in which it stood was bricked up, though the inscription was allowed to remain and is still visible today.

It depicts Lody as brave and patriotic but clumsy, leaving a trail of clues behind him as he travels in the UK: wearing clothes marked "Made in Germany", writing naval secrets on the back of a bus ticket which he loses and a Scotland Yard detective finds, coming to attention when an orchestra in London plays the German naval anthem, arousing suspicion when he calls for German wine while writing secret reports to Berlin, and leaving incriminating letters in the pockets of suits which he sends to be pressed.

Lody's body was buried in an unmarked common grave in the East London Cemetery in Plaistow, along with seventeen other men – ten executed spies and seven prisoners who died of ill-health or accidents.