When the Hamburg-Amerika Line established a series of personally conducted tours from Berlin, Lody secured an appointment to take charge of a party of rich Americans who were going round the world. He made a similar tour in 1913 and in the summer of 1914, and when the American medical societies held an International Conference in London, Lody was one of the guides who helped to show them round England. None of the Americans, it may be mentioned, ever doubted that he belonged to their country.
It was in August, as I have said, that Lody came to England on the mission that led him to his death. He travelled as Mr. Inglis, though to an American acquaintance who chanced to meet him he was still Lody. It was some weeks before the attention of the Confidential Department was drawn to him, and then began a game of hide-and-seek, which was not without a humorous side.
From August till the middle of September, Lody was in Edinburgh, a district prohibited to enemy aliens, though not, of course, to an American. Thence he sent, to Stockholm, a telegram which aroused suspicion. On September 7th he was followed from the neighbourhood of Rosyth, and with magnificent "bluff" he went direct to the police and complained. So well did he play the part of an injured and innocent American citizen, that the police actually apologised to him. He slipped away and, for a time, all trace of him was lost.
Then he went to London and began an examination of the steps that had been taken for the protection of the principal buildings. Again the Intelligence Department got on his track, and from that moment his doom was sealed. No doubt he thought he had shaken off all suspicion, but he was soon to be undeceived.
After a visit to Scotland about the end of September, Lody went to Liverpool, no doubt to pick up all he could about the Mersey defences, and then over to Ireland in the guise of an American tourist on a visit to Killarney. But the police had their eye on him all the time, and he was arrested and detained until the arrival of Inspector Ward of Scotland Yard. His trial and conviction followed.
The public will never know the full extent of Lody's doings as a spy, but it is beyond question that he was a most daring and dangerous man. The reports he made have not yet been published, but they were of such a character that, in the interests of the State, much of the evidence was taken in camera, and those who have been privileged to read them declare that, in their keen observation and clear expression, they are among the most remarkable documents that have ever come into the possession of the War Office. The Confidential Department did its work well, and it is worth noting here that after grave suspicion fell upon Lody, he was so closely shadowed that none of his reports left the country, and they were produced in evidence at the trial.
Lody's task was to travel about England and to send to Germany news about our naval movements, about our losses and the steps that were being taken to repair them. One message he tried to send from Edinburgh read:—"Must cancel. Johnson very ill last four days. Shall leave shortly." Innocent enough! But to Berlin, as Lody admitted at his trial, it meant that the British Fleet, in four days, would be leaving the Firth of Forth.
What, we may well wonder, was to be cancelled!
There was a dramatic scene in the ancient Guildhall when the court-martial assembled to try Lody for his life—a scene strangely unfamiliar in a country which, for a generation, has had little experience of military trials. The court was composed of Major-General Lord Cheylesmore as President, and eight officers in uniform. In the dock stood Lody, guarded by two khaki-clad soldiers with bayonets fixed.
The following were the charges on which Lody was accused:—