Here are extracts from a number of letters selected at random from the mountain of mail awaiting me at the hotel:
"—— wishes Mr. Chaplin a hearty welcome and begs him to give him the honour of shaving him on Sunday, Sept. 11, any time which he thinks suitable."
A West End moneylender has forwarded his business card, which states: "Should you require temporary cash accommodation, I am prepared to advance you £50 to £10,000 on note of hand alone, without fees or delay. All communications strictly private and confidential."
A man living in Golden Square, W., writes: "My son, in the endeavour to get a flower thrown by you from the Ritz Hotel, lost his hat, the bill for which I enclose, seven shillings and sixpence."
A Liverpool scalp specialist gathers that Mr. Chaplin is much concerned regarding the appearance of grey hairs in his head. "I claim to be," he adds, "the only man in Great Britain who can and does restore the colour of grey hair. You may visit Liverpool, and if you will call I shall be pleased to examine your scalp and give you a candid opinion. If nothing can be done I will state so frankly."
"Is there any chance," writes a woman of Brixton, "of you requiring for your films the services of twin small boys nearly four years old and nearly indistinguishable? An American agent has recently been in this neighbourhood and secured a contract with two such small girls (twins), which points to at least a demand for such on American films."
A widow of sixty-two writes: "I have a half-dozen china teaset of the late Queen Victoria's diamond jubilee, and it occurred to me that you might like to possess it. If you would call or allow me to take it anywhere for you to see, I would gladly do so. I have had it twenty-four years, and would like to raise money on it."
A South London picture dealer writes: "If ever you should be passing this way when you are taking your quiet strolls around London, I would like you to drop in and see a picture that I think might interest you. It is the Strand by night, painted by Arthur Grimshaw in 1887. I hope you won't think I have taken too much of a liberty—but I knew your mother when I was in Kate Paradise's troupe, and I think she would remember me if ever you were to mention Clara Symonds of that troupe. It is a little link with the past."
"Dear Old Friend,—Some months ago I wrote to you, and no doubt you will remember me. I was in 'Casey's Court,' and, as you know, we had Mr. Murray for our boss. You have indeed got on well. I myself have only this month come home from being in Turkey for eight years. Dear old boy, I should like to see you when you come to London—that is, if you do not mind mixing with one of the Casey's Court urchins."
A Sussex mother writes: "Would you grant a few moments' interview to a little girl of nine (small for her years) whom I am anxious to start on the films? She has much in her favour, being not only bright and clever, but unusually attractive in appearance, receiving unlimited attention wherever she goes, as she is really quite out of the ordinary."