Mrs. M. P. Daggett,
Room 464 Ritz Hotel,
Dear Madam:—
I have pleasure in informing you that under War Office instructions I have arranged with the officer commanding 3rd London General Hospital, Wandsworth Common, S.W., for you to visit his hospital at 11 A. M. on Friday next, the 9th instant.
I am, dear Madam
Yours faithfully,
O. ——
Colonel D.A.D.M.S.
London District.
England in war-time is open for my inspection. I am getting my data nicely when one day there develops the dilemma of getting away with it. I open the Times one morning to read a new law: “On and after Dec. 1,” the newspaper announces, “no one may be permitted to take out of England any photograph or printed or written material other than letters.” I have a trunkful. Clearly I can’t get by any khaki line with that concealed about my person. Sir Gilbert walks twice, three times up and down the red room. “I’ll see what I can do about it,” he says. “I don’t know. But I’ll try.” A few days later my data begins to go right through all the laws.