We reached London somewhat late in the evening--in the twilight of a summer day.

There was the hurry and bustle of arrival, a hurry and bustle that changed the tenor of my thoughts and broke their train.

As I stood reflecting before the door of the carriage, I felt a friendly pressure of a hand on my shoulder.
"You'll see to that," Churchill's voice said in my ear.

"You'll set the copyists to work." "I'll go to the Museum to-morrow," I said.

There were certain extracts to be made for the "Life of Cromwell"-- extracts from pamphlets that we had not conveniently at disposal.