“The General has sent them all over to Salmond, for his successor.
“So there I am, and it’s me for Baghdad, ‘Orace, my boy. (I am thinking of what Robertson said to Smith-Dorrien.)
“It seems they will try to take me to anything it is important I should see, so I depend on your advice.
“You shall have a cheque as soon as I get the bill.
“I owe all this suggestion to you. Bacon says there are things a man can’t decently do or claim for himself, and then a friend comes in.”
In reply I sent him a passport form. “Many thanks for the passport form,” he wrote. (“A lot of notice the Arabs will take of it if I come among them!”)
Sir Walter left London on March the 16th to take the Egypt at Marseilles. He stayed in London for a couple of days before he left and worked hard at the office putting in page headings on the latest proofs which had just come in from the Clarendon Press. We had to take a hurried lunch. Sir Walter liked a good meal to the accompaniment of beer. I suggested a tavern near Oxford Circus identified with the male domestic fowl. There is an excellent dining-room over the main bar. The food is as good as is procurable anywhere in London. The Scotch ale has a bite in it. Sir Walter looked round the assembled business men when we were seated and remarked that he had no doubts as to the quality of the cooking. The best advertisement for the cut off the joint was in the faces of the diners. He asked me what they all did (I could only guess). He was soon in conversation with the gentleman next him, whom he congratulated on the excellent portion of Shepherds Pie which was placed before him. Did Sir Walter know Mr. —— (the proprietor) when he had the Swinging Anchor round the corner (or words to that effect). Sir Walter regretted he did not. His neighbour then became reminiscent on the history of lunches enjoyed under Mr. ——’s direction over a period of twenty years; his reminiscences were punctuated by witty remarks from Sir Walter, which sent him off again into new channels.
Sir Walter enjoyed the lunch so much that on the following day he looked forward to going again. On this occasion, when he was paying the waitress—a shrewd Cockney girl—he was asked whether he found it cold up there—this being by way of a joke on his height as he towered above her waiting for his bill. He was just like that. Every one felt at home with him. His great charm of manner, his dignity, his delightful old-world courtesy, especially with ladies, made him at home but also conspicuous in any assembly. His human qualities earned him the friendliness, even the banter, of people who came into contact with him, but he never in any way lost either dignity or distinction as a result.
He went off to Egypt like a schoolboy going for his holidays. He carried with him an unbound copy of his first volume. From Marseilles I received a typical letter.
“P. & O. S.S. Egypt.