Agahta Christie - An autobiography

Chapter 24

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"Did you like him?" he once asked abruptly. It was a difficult question.

"Part of the time I did," I said. "I don"t think I have ever known him for long enough to have what you might call family affection for him. Sometimes I despaired of him, sometimes I was maddened by him, sometimeswell I was fascinated by himcharmed."

"He could charm women very easily," said Colonel Dwyer. "Came and ate out of his hand, they did. Wanted to marry him, usually. You know, marry him and reform him, train him and settle him down to a nice steady job. I gather he"s not still alive?"

"No, he died some years ago."

"Pity! Or is it?"

"I"ve often wondered," I said. What actually is the border between failure and success? By all outward showing, my brother Monty"s life had been a disaster. He had not succeeded at anything he had attempted. But was that perhaps only from the financial view? Had one not to admit that, despite financial failure, he had for the greater part of his life enjoyed himself?

"I suppose," he had said to me once cheerfully, "I"ve led rather a wicked life. I owe people a lot of money all over the world. Broken the laws of a lot of countries. Got a nice little h.o.a.rd of illicit ivory tucked away in Africa. They know I have, too! But they won"t be able to find it! Given poor old mother and Madge a good deal of worry. Don"t suppose the parsons would approve of me. But, my word, kid, I"ve enjoyed myself. I"ve had a thundering good time. Never been satisfied with anything but the best." Where Monty"s luck had always held was that right up to old Mrs Taylor some woman would turn up in his hour of need to minister to him. Mrs Taylor and he had lived peacefully together on Dartmoor. Then she had gone down badly with bronchitis. She had been slow to recover and the doctor had shaken his head over her pa.s.sing another winter on Dartmoor. She ought to go somewhere warmperhaps the south of France. Monty was delighted. He sent for every travel brochure imaginable. Madge and I agreed that to ask Mrs Taylor to stay on Dartmoor was too muchalthough she a.s.sured us she did not mind, she would be quite willing to do so.

"I couldn"t leave Captain Miller now." So, meaning for the best, we rebuffed Monty"s wilder ideas, and arranged instead for rooms at a small pension pension in the south of France for both Mrs Taylor and him. I sold the granite bungalow and saw them off on the Blue Train. They looked radiantly happy, but, alas, Mrs Taylor caught a chill on the journey, developed pneumonia, and died in hospital a few days later. They took Monty into hospital at Ma.r.s.eilles too. He was broken down by Mrs Taylor"s death. Madge went out knowing that something would have to be arranged, but at her wits" end to know in the south of France for both Mrs Taylor and him. I sold the granite bungalow and saw them off on the Blue Train. They looked radiantly happy, but, alas, Mrs Taylor caught a chill on the journey, developed pneumonia, and died in hospital a few days later. They took Monty into hospital at Ma.r.s.eilles too. He was broken down by Mrs Taylor"s death. Madge went out knowing that something would have to be arranged, but at her wits" end to know what. what. The nurse who was looking after him was sympathetic and helpful. She would see what could be done. A week later we had a wire from the bank manager in whose hands financial arrangements had been left, saying that he thought a satisfactory solution had been found. Madge could not go to see him, so I went along. The manager met me and took me out to lunch. No one could have been nicer or more sympathetic. He was, however, curiously evasive. I couldn"t think why. Presently the cause of his embarra.s.sment came out. He was nervous of what Monty"s The nurse who was looking after him was sympathetic and helpful. She would see what could be done. A week later we had a wire from the bank manager in whose hands financial arrangements had been left, saying that he thought a satisfactory solution had been found. Madge could not go to see him, so I went along. The manager met me and took me out to lunch. No one could have been nicer or more sympathetic. He was, however, curiously evasive. I couldn"t think why. Presently the cause of his embarra.s.sment came out. He was nervous of what Monty"s sisters sisters would say to the proposal. The nurse, Charlotte, had offered to take Monty to her apartment and be responsible for him. The bank manager must have feared an outburst of prudish disapproval from us bothbut how little he knew! Madge and I would have fallen on Charlotte"s neck in grat.i.tude. Madge got to know her well and became attached to her. Charlotte managed Montyand he was very fond of her too. She kept control of the purse stringswhilst tactfully listening to Monty"s grandiose plans for living on a large yacht and so on. He died quite suddenly of a cerebral haemorrhage at a cafe on the front one day, and Charlotte and Madge wept together at the funeral. He was buried at the Military Cemetery at Ma.r.s.eilles. I think, being Monty, he enjoyed himself to the end. Colonel Dwyer and I became close friends after that. Sometimes I would go and dine with him; sometimes he would dine with me in my hotel; and our talk always seemed to come back to Kenya, Kilimanjaro, and Uganda and the Lake, and stories about my brother. In a masterful and military manner Colonel Dwyer made arrangements for my entertainment on my next trip abroad. "I have planned three good would say to the proposal. The nurse, Charlotte, had offered to take Monty to her apartment and be responsible for him. The bank manager must have feared an outburst of prudish disapproval from us bothbut how little he knew! Madge and I would have fallen on Charlotte"s neck in grat.i.tude. Madge got to know her well and became attached to her. Charlotte managed Montyand he was very fond of her too. She kept control of the purse stringswhilst tactfully listening to Monty"s grandiose plans for living on a large yacht and so on. He died quite suddenly of a cerebral haemorrhage at a cafe on the front one day, and Charlotte and Madge wept together at the funeral. He was buried at the Military Cemetery at Ma.r.s.eilles. I think, being Monty, he enjoyed himself to the end. Colonel Dwyer and I became close friends after that. Sometimes I would go and dine with him; sometimes he would dine with me in my hotel; and our talk always seemed to come back to Kenya, Kilimanjaro, and Uganda and the Lake, and stories about my brother. In a masterful and military manner Colonel Dwyer made arrangements for my entertainment on my next trip abroad. "I have planned three good safaris safaris for you," he said. "I"ll have to fix it for you some time when I can get away at a time that suits you. I think I shall meet you somewhere in Egyptthen I"d fix a trek on a camel convoy right across North Africa. It would take two months but it would be a wonderful tripsomething you would never forget. I can take you where none of these ridiculous trumped-up guides would be able toI know every inch of that country. Then there is the interior." And he outlined further travel plans, mostly in a bullock cart. From time to time I had doubts in my own mind as to whether I would ever be tough enough to carry out these programmes. Perhaps we both knew that they were in the realms of wishful thinking. He was a lonely man, I think. Colonel Dwyer had risen from the ranks, had a fine military career, had gradually grown apart from a wife who refused to leave Englandall she cared for, he said, was living in a neat little house in a neat little roadand his children had not cared for him when he came home on leave. They had thought his ideas of travelling in wild places silly and unrealistic. for you," he said. "I"ll have to fix it for you some time when I can get away at a time that suits you. I think I shall meet you somewhere in Egyptthen I"d fix a trek on a camel convoy right across North Africa. It would take two months but it would be a wonderful tripsomething you would never forget. I can take you where none of these ridiculous trumped-up guides would be able toI know every inch of that country. Then there is the interior." And he outlined further travel plans, mostly in a bullock cart. From time to time I had doubts in my own mind as to whether I would ever be tough enough to carry out these programmes. Perhaps we both knew that they were in the realms of wishful thinking. He was a lonely man, I think. Colonel Dwyer had risen from the ranks, had a fine military career, had gradually grown apart from a wife who refused to leave Englandall she cared for, he said, was living in a neat little house in a neat little roadand his children had not cared for him when he came home on leave. They had thought his ideas of travelling in wild places silly and unrealistic.

"In the end I sent her home whatever money she wanted for herself and for educating the children. But my life is out here, round these parts. Africa, Egypt, North Africa, Iraq, Saudi Arabiaall of that. This is the life for me." He was, I think, though lonely, satisfied. He had a dry sense of humour and told me several extremely funny stories about the various intrigues that went on. At the same time he was in many ways highly conventional. He was a religious, upright martinet, with stern ideas of right and wrong. An old Covenanter would describe him best.

It was November now, and the weather was beginning to change. There were no longer blistering hot sunlit days; occasionally there was even rain. I had booked my trip home, and I would be leaving Baghdad with regretbut not too much regret, because I was already forming plans for coming back again. The Woolleys had thrown out a hint that I might like to visit them next year, and perhaps travel part of the way home again with them; and there had been other invitations and encouragement.

The day came at last when I once more embarked on the six-wheeler, this time being careful to have reserved a seat near the front of the bus so that I should not again disgrace myself. We started off, and I was soon to learn some of the antics of the desert. The rain came, and, as is customary in that country, firm going at 8.30 a.m. had within hours become a mora.s.s of mud. Every time you took a step, an enormous pancake of mud weighing perhaps twenty pounds attached itself to each foot. As for the six-wheeler, it skidded unceasingly, swerved, and finally stuck. The drivers sprang out, spades were lifted, boards came down and were fixed under wheels, and the whole business of digging out the bus began. After about forty minutes or an hour"s work a first attempt was made. The bus shuddered, lifted itself, and relapsed. In the end, with the rain increasing in violence, we had to turn back, and arrived once more in Baghdad. Our second attempt the next day was better. We still had to dig ourselves out once or twice, but finally we pa.s.sed Ramadi, and when we got to the fortress of Rutbah we were out in clear desert again, and there was no more difficulty underfoot.

III

One of the nicest parts of travelling is coming home again. Rosalind, Carlo, Punkie and her familyI looked upon them all with new appreciation.

We went for Christmas to stay with Punkie in Cheshire. After that we came to London, where Rosalind had one of her friends to stayPam Druce, whose mother and father we had met originally in the Canary Islands. We planned that we would go to a pantomime, and then Pam would come down to Devonshire with us till the end of the holidays.

We had a happy evening after Pam arrived, until in the small hours I was awakened by a voice saying: "Do you mind if I come into your bed, Mrs Christie? I feel as though I am having rather queer dreams."

"Why, of course, Pam," I said. I switched the light on and she got in and lay down with a sigh. I was slightly surprised, because Pam had not struck me as being a nervous child. However, it was the most comforting thing for her, no doubt, so we both went to sleep till morning.

After the curtains were drawn and my tea brought, I switched on my light and looked at Pam. Never have I seen a face so completely covered with spots. She noticed something rather peculiar in my expression, and said: "You are are staring at me!" staring at me!"

"Well," I said, "well, yes, I am."

"Well, I"m I"m surprised too," said Pam. "How did I get into your bed?" surprised too," said Pam. "How did I get into your bed?"

"You came in in the night, and said you had had some nasty dreams."

"Did I? I don"t remember a thing about it. I couldn"t think what I was doing in your bed." She paused, and then said, "Is there anything else the matter?"

"Well, yes," I said, "I"m afraid there is. Do you know, Pam, I think you"ve got the measles." I brought a hand-gla.s.s and she examined her face. "Oh," she said, "I do look peculiar, don"t I?" I agreed.

"And what"s going to happen, now?" Pam asked. "Can"t I go to the theatre tonight?"

"I"m afraid not," I said. "I think the first thing we"d better do is telephone your mother." I telephoned Beda Druce, who came round at once. She immediately cancelled her departure, and took Pam off. I put Rosalind into the car and drove down to Devonshire, where we would wait ten days and see whether she was going to have measles or not. The drive was not made easier by the fact that I had been vaccinated only a week previously in the leg and driving was somewhat painful. The first thing that happened at the end of the ten days was that I proceeded to have a violent headache and every sign of fever.

"Perhaps you you are going to have the measles and not me," suggested Rosalind. are going to have the measles and not me," suggested Rosalind.

"Nonsense," I said. "I had measles very badly myself when I was fifteen." But I did feel slightly uneasy. People did did have measles twiceand why should I feel so ill otherwise? I rang up my sister, and Punkie, always ready to come to the rescue, said that on receipt of a telegram she would come at once and deal with either me or Rosalind, or both, and anything else that should happen. Next day I felt worse, and Rosalind complained of having a coldher eyes watered and she sneezed. Punkie arrived, full of her usual enthusiasm for dealing with disasters. In due course Dr Carver was summoned and p.r.o.nounced that Rosalind had the measles. have measles twiceand why should I feel so ill otherwise? I rang up my sister, and Punkie, always ready to come to the rescue, said that on receipt of a telegram she would come at once and deal with either me or Rosalind, or both, and anything else that should happen. Next day I felt worse, and Rosalind complained of having a coldher eyes watered and she sneezed. Punkie arrived, full of her usual enthusiasm for dealing with disasters. In due course Dr Carver was summoned and p.r.o.nounced that Rosalind had the measles.

"And what"s the matter with you?" he said. "You don"t look too well." I said I felt pretty dreadful, and thought I had a temperature. He put a few more searching inquiries. "Been vaccinated, have you?" he said. "And "And you motored down here. Vaccinated in the leg, too? Why weren"t you vaccinated in the arm?" you motored down here. Vaccinated in the leg, too? Why weren"t you vaccinated in the arm?"

"Because vaccination marks look so dreadful in evening dress."

"Well there"s no harm being vaccinated in the leg, but it"s silly to motor over two hundred miles when you have had that done. Let"s have a look." He had a look. "Your leg is enormously swollen," he said. "Hadn"t you realised that?"...

"Well, yes, I had, but I thought it was just the vaccination feeling sore." "Sore? It"s a good deal more than that. that. Let"s take your temperature." He did, then exclaimed, "Good Lord! Haven"t you taken it?" Let"s take your temperature." He did, then exclaimed, "Good Lord! Haven"t you taken it?"

"Well, I did take it yesterday, and it was 102, but I thought perhaps it would go down. I do feel a bit odd."

"Odd! I should think you do. It"s over 103 now. You lie here on your bed and wait while I fix up a few things." He came back to say that I was to go into a nursing home immediately and that he would send round an ambulance. I said an ambulance was nonsense. Why couldn"t I just go in a car or a taxi?

"You will do as you are told," said Dr Carver, not perhaps quite as sure of this as he might have been. "I"ll have a word with Mrs Watts first." Punkie, came in and said, "I"ll look after Rosalind while she has the measles. Dr Carver seems to think you are in rather a bad way though. What have they done? Poisoned you with the vaccination?" Punkie packed a few necessities for me, and I lay on my bed waiting for the ambulance and wishing that I could collect my thoughts. I had a terrible feeling of being on a slab in a fishmonger"s shop: all round me were filleted, quivering fish on ice, but at the same time I was encased in a log of wood which was on fire and smokingthe combination of the two was most unfortunate. Every now and then, with an enormous effort, I came out of this unpleasant nightmare, saying to myself, "I"m just Agatha lying on my bedthere are no fish here, no fishmonger"s shop, and I am not not a blazing log." However, soon I was slithering about on a slippery sheepskin, and the fishes" heads were around me. There was one very unpleasant fish-head, I rememberit was a large turbot, I think, with protuberant eyes and a gaping mouth, and it looked at me in a most disagreeable way. Then the door opened and into the room came a woman in nurse"s uniform, what appeared to be an ambulance attendant, and with them a kind of portable chair. I made a good many protestsI had no intention of going anywhere in a portable chair. I could perfectly well walk downstairs and get into an ambulance. I was overborne by the nurse, saying in a snappish voice: "Doctor"s orders. Now dear, just sit here and we will strap you in." I never remember anything more frightening than being conveyed down the flight of steep stairs to the hall. I was a good weightwell over eleven stoneand the ambulance attendant was an extaordinarily weakly young man. He and the nurse between them got me into the chair and began carrying me downstairs. The chair creaked and showed every sign of falling to pieces, and the ambulance man kept slipping and clutching at the stair-rail. The moment came when the chair did begin to disintegrate in the middle of the stairs. "Dear, dear, Nurse," panted the attendant, "I do believe it"s coming to pieces." a blazing log." However, soon I was slithering about on a slippery sheepskin, and the fishes" heads were around me. There was one very unpleasant fish-head, I rememberit was a large turbot, I think, with protuberant eyes and a gaping mouth, and it looked at me in a most disagreeable way. Then the door opened and into the room came a woman in nurse"s uniform, what appeared to be an ambulance attendant, and with them a kind of portable chair. I made a good many protestsI had no intention of going anywhere in a portable chair. I could perfectly well walk downstairs and get into an ambulance. I was overborne by the nurse, saying in a snappish voice: "Doctor"s orders. Now dear, just sit here and we will strap you in." I never remember anything more frightening than being conveyed down the flight of steep stairs to the hall. I was a good weightwell over eleven stoneand the ambulance attendant was an extaordinarily weakly young man. He and the nurse between them got me into the chair and began carrying me downstairs. The chair creaked and showed every sign of falling to pieces, and the ambulance man kept slipping and clutching at the stair-rail. The moment came when the chair did begin to disintegrate in the middle of the stairs. "Dear, dear, Nurse," panted the attendant, "I do believe it"s coming to pieces."

"Let me out of it," I shouted. "Let me walk down." They had to give in. They undid the strap, I took hold of the banisters, and marched valiantly down the stairs, feeling a great deal safer and happier, and only just containing myself from saying what absolute fools I thought they were. The ambulance drove off, and I arrived at the nursing home. A pretty little probationer nurse with red hair put me to bed. The sheets were cold, but not cold enough. Visions of fish and ice began to recur, and also a blazing cauldron.

"Ooh!" said the probationer nurse, looking at my leg with great interest. "Last time we had a leg in like that it came off on the third day." Fortunately, by this time I was so delirious that the words hardly registered at allin any case at that moment I couldn"t have cared less if they had cut off both my legs and arms and even my head. But it pa.s.sed through my mind as the little probationer arranged the bed-clothes and tucked me in tightly that possibly she had mistaken her vocation and that her bedside manner was not going to go down well with all the patients in a hospital. Fortunately my leg did not come off on the third day. After four or five days of high fever and delirium from bad blood posioning the whole thing began to mend. I was convinced, and still believe, that some batch of vaccine had been sent out double strength. The doctors tended to believe that it was occasioned entirely by the fact that I had not been vaccinated since I was a baby, and that I had strained my leg by driving down from London. After about a week I was more or less myself again, and interested to hear over the telephone progress of Rosalind"s measles. They had been like Pam"sa splendid display of rash. Rosalind had much enjoyed her Auntie Punkie"s ministrations, and had called in a clear voice nearly every night saying: "Auntie Punkie! Would you like to sponge me down again like you did last night? I found it very very comforting." So in due course I came home, still with a large dressing on my left thigh, and we all had a cheerful convalescence together. Rosalind did not go back to school until two weeks after the opening, when she was quite herself again and strong and cheerful. I took another week, while my leg healed, and then I too departed, first to Italy and then to Rome, I could not stay there as long as I had planned, because I had to catch my boat for Beirut.

This time I travelled by Lloyd Triestino boat to Beirut, spent a few days there, then once more took the Nairn Transport across the desert. It was somewhat rough along the coast from Alexandretta, and I had not been feeling too well. I had also noticed another woman on the boat. Sybil Burnett, the woman in question, told me afterwards that she had not been feeling too good in the swell either. She had looked at me and thought: "That "That is one of the most unpleasant women I have ever seen." At the same time I had been thinking the same about her. I had said to myself, "I don"t like that woman. I don"t like the hat she is wearing, and I don"t like her mushroom-coloured stockings." is one of the most unpleasant women I have ever seen." At the same time I had been thinking the same about her. I had said to myself, "I don"t like that woman. I don"t like the hat she is wearing, and I don"t like her mushroom-coloured stockings."

On this mutual tide of dislike we proceeded to cross the desert together. Almost at once we became friendsand were to remain friends for many years. Sybil, usually called "Bauff" Burnett, was the wife of Sir Charles Burnett, at that time Air Vice-Marshal, and was going out to join her husband. She was a woman of great originality, who said exactly what came into her head, loved travelling and foreign places, had a beautiful house in Algiers, four daughters and two sons by a previous marriage, and an inexhaustible enjoyment of life. With us there was a party of Anglo-Catholic ladies who were being shepherded out to Iraq to make tours of various Biblical places. In charge of them was an excessively fierce-looking woman, a Miss Wilbraham. She had large feet, encased in flat black shoes, and wore an enormous topee. Sybil Burnett said that she looked exactly like a beetle, and I agreed. She was the kind of woman that one cannot help wanting to contradict. Sybil Burnett contradicted her at once.

"Forty women I have with me," said Miss Wilbraham, "and I really must congratulate myself. Every one of them is a sahib sahib except one. So important, don"t you agree?" except one. So important, don"t you agree?"

"No," said Sybil Burnett. "I think to have them all sahibs sahibs is very dull. You want a good many of the other kind." Miss Wilbraham paid no attentionthat was her strong point: she never paid attention. "Yes," she said, "I really do congratulate myself." Bauff and I then put our heads together to see if we could spot the one black sheep who did not pa.s.s the test and was labelled for the trip as not being a is very dull. You want a good many of the other kind." Miss Wilbraham paid no attentionthat was her strong point: she never paid attention. "Yes," she said, "I really do congratulate myself." Bauff and I then put our heads together to see if we could spot the one black sheep who did not pa.s.s the test and was labelled for the trip as not being a sahib. sahib.

With Miss Wilbraham was her second-in-command and friend, Miss Amy Ferguson. Miss Ferguson was devoted to all Anglo-Catholic causes, and even more so to Miss Wilbraham, whom she regarded as a super-woman. The only thing that upset her was her own incapacity to live up to Miss Wilbraham. "The trouble is," she confided, "Maude is so splendidly strong. Of course, my health is good, but I must confess I do do get tired sometimes. Yet I"m only sixty-five, and Maude is nearly seventy." get tired sometimes. Yet I"m only sixty-five, and Maude is nearly seventy."

"A very good creature," said Miss Wilbraham of Amy. "Most able, most devoted. Unfortunately she is continually feeling fatiguedmost annoying. She can"t help it, I suppose, poor thing, but there it is. Now I," said Miss Wilbraham, "never feel fatigue." We felt quite sure of it. We arrived in Baghdad. I met several old friends, and enjoyed myself there for four or five days, then, on receipt of a telegram from the Woolleys, went down to Ur. I had seen the Woolleys in London the preceding June, when they were home, and indeed had lent them the little mews house which I had recently bought, in Cresswell Place. It was a delightful house, or so I thoughtone of four or five houses in the mews which had been built like cottages: old-fashioned country cottages. When I bought it it had stables still, with the loose-boxes and mangers all round the wall, a big harness-room also on the ground floor, and a little bedroom squeezed between them. A ladder-like stair lead to two rooms above, with a sketchy bathroom and another tiny room next to that. With the help of a biddable builder it had been transformed. The big stable downstairs had had the loose-boxes and the wood-work arranged flat against the wall, and above that I had a big frieze of a kind of wallpaper which happened to be in fashion at that moment, of a herbaceous border, so that to enter the room was like walking into a small cottage garden. The harness-room was turned into the garage and the room between the two was a maid"s room. Upstairs the bathroom was made splendid with green dolphins prancing round the walls and a green porcelain bath; and the bigger bedroom was turned into a dining-room, with a divan that turned into a bed at night. The very small room was a kitchen, and the other room a second bedroom. It was while the Woolleys were installed in this house that they had made a lovely plan for me. I was to come to Ur about a week before the end of the season, when they were packing up, and after that I would travel back with them, through Syria, on to Greece, and in Greece go to Delphi with them. I was very happy at this prospect. I arrived at Ur in the middle of a sandstorm. I had endured a sandstorm when visiting there before, but this was far worse and went on for four or five days. I had never known that sand could permeate to the extent it did. Although the windows were shut, and mosquito-wired as well, one"s bed at night was full of sand. You shook it all out on the floor, got in, and in the morning there was more sand weighing down on your face, your neck, and everywhere else. It was five days days of near torture. However, we had interesting talks, everyone was friendly, and I enjoyed my time there enormously. Father Burrows was there again, and Whitburn, the architectand this time there was Leonard Woolley"s a.s.sistant, Max Mallowan, who had been with him for five years, but who had been absent the previous year when I came down. He was a thin, dark, young man, and very quiethe seldom spoke, but was perceptive to everything that was required of him. I noticed this time something I had not taken in before: the extraordinary silence of everyone at table. It was as though they were afraid to speak. After a day or two I began to find out why. Katharine Woolley was a temperamental woman, and she had a great facility either for putting people at their ease or for making them nervous. I noticed that she was extremely well waited on: there was always someone to offer her more milk with her coffee or b.u.t.ter for her toast, to pa.s.s the marmalade, and so on. Why I wondered, were they all so scared of her? One morning when she was in a bad mood I began to discover a little more. of near torture. However, we had interesting talks, everyone was friendly, and I enjoyed my time there enormously. Father Burrows was there again, and Whitburn, the architectand this time there was Leonard Woolley"s a.s.sistant, Max Mallowan, who had been with him for five years, but who had been absent the previous year when I came down. He was a thin, dark, young man, and very quiethe seldom spoke, but was perceptive to everything that was required of him. I noticed this time something I had not taken in before: the extraordinary silence of everyone at table. It was as though they were afraid to speak. After a day or two I began to find out why. Katharine Woolley was a temperamental woman, and she had a great facility either for putting people at their ease or for making them nervous. I noticed that she was extremely well waited on: there was always someone to offer her more milk with her coffee or b.u.t.ter for her toast, to pa.s.s the marmalade, and so on. Why I wondered, were they all so scared of her? One morning when she was in a bad mood I began to discover a little more.

"I suppose no one is ever going to offer me the salt," she said. Immediately four willing hands shoved it across the table, almost upsetting it in the process. A pause ensued, then nervously Mr Whitburn leaned forward and pressed toast upon her.

"Don"t you see my mouth is full, Mr Whitburn?" was the only response he got. He sat back, blushing nervously, and everybody ate toast feverishly before offering it to her again. She refused. "But I really think," she said. "that you might occasionally not finish all the toast before Max has had a chance to have a piece." I looked at Max. The remaining piece of toast was offered to him. He took it quickly, without protest. Actually he had already had two pieces, and I wondered why he did not say so. That again I was to realise more fully later. Mr Whitburn initiated me into some of these mysteries: "You see," he said, "she always has favourites."

"Mrs Woolley?"

"Yes. They don"t stay the same, you know. Sometimes one person, sometimes another. But, I mean, either everything you do is wrong, or everything is right. I"m the one in the doghouse at present." It was equally clear that Max Mallowan was the person who did everything right. It may have been because he had been away the preceding season, and so was more of a novelty than the others, but I think myself it was because in the course of five years he had learnt the way to treat the two Woolleys. He knew when to keep quiet; he knew when to speak. I soon realised how good he was at managing people. He managed the workmen well, and, what was far more difficult, he managed Katharine Woolley well. "Of course," said Katharine to me, "Max is the perfect a.s.sistant. I don"t know what we would have done without him all these years. I think you"ll like him very much. I am sending him with you to Nejef and Kerbala. Nejef is the Moslem holy city of the dead, and Kerbala has a wonderful mosque. So when we pack up here and go to Baghdad he will take you there. You can go and see Nippur on the way."

"Oh," I said, "butwon"t he want to go to Baghdad too? I mean, he will have friends there to see before he goes home." I was dismayed at the thought of being sent off with a young man who was probably yearning for freedom and some fun in Baghdad after the strain of a three months season at Ur.

"Oh no," said Katharine firmly. "Max will be delighted."

I didn"t think Max would would be delighted, though I had no doubt that he would conceal the fact. I felt very uncomfortable. I regarded Whitburn as a friend, having seen him the year before, and so I spoke to him about it. be delighted, though I had no doubt that he would conceal the fact. I felt very uncomfortable. I regarded Whitburn as a friend, having seen him the year before, and so I spoke to him about it.

"Don"t you think it"s rather high-handed? I hate to do that sort of thing. Do you think I could say I didn"t want to see Nejef and Kerbala?"

"Well, I think you ought to see them," said Whitburn. "It will be quite all right. Max won"t mind. And anyway, I mean, if Katharine has made up her mind, then that"s settled, you see." I saw, and an enormous admiration spread over me. How wonderful to be the sort of woman who, as soon as she had made up her mind, had everybody within sight immediately falling in with it, not grudgingly, but as a matter of course. Many months later, I remember speaking to Katharine with some admiration of her husband Len. "It"s wonderful," I said, "how unselfish he is. The way he gets up on the boat at night and goes off and makes you Benger"s or hot soup. There aren"t many husbands who would do that."

"Really?" said Katharine, looking surprised. "Oh, but Len thinks it"s a privilege." And he did did think it was a privilege. In fact, everything that one did for Katharine felt, at any rate for the moment, like a privilege. Of course, when you got home and realised you had parted with the two library books you had just fetched and were looking forward to reading, profering them to her eagerly because she sighed and said she had nothing to read, and not even grudging the fact until later, you realised what a remarkable woman she was. Only exceptional people did not fall under her sway. One was, I remember, Freya Stark. Katharine was ill one day and wanted a lot of things fetched and done for her. Freya Stark, who was staying with her, was firm, cheerful and friendly: "I can see you are not awfully well, dear, but I am absolutely think it was a privilege. In fact, everything that one did for Katharine felt, at any rate for the moment, like a privilege. Of course, when you got home and realised you had parted with the two library books you had just fetched and were looking forward to reading, profering them to her eagerly because she sighed and said she had nothing to read, and not even grudging the fact until later, you realised what a remarkable woman she was. Only exceptional people did not fall under her sway. One was, I remember, Freya Stark. Katharine was ill one day and wanted a lot of things fetched and done for her. Freya Stark, who was staying with her, was firm, cheerful and friendly: "I can see you are not awfully well, dear, but I am absolutely no no good with illness, so the best thing I can do for you is to go out for the day." And go out for the day she did. Strangely enough, Katharine did not resent this; she merely thought it a splendid example of what force of character Freya had. And it certainly did show that. To get back to Max, everybody seemed to agree it was perfectly natural that a young man, who had worked hard on an arduous dig and was about to be released for rest and a good time, should sacrifice himself and drive off into the blue to show a strange woman a good many years older than him, who knew little about archaeology, the sights of the country. Max seemed to take it as a matter of course. He was a grave-looking young man, and I felt slightly nervous of him. I worried whether I should offer some apology. I good with illness, so the best thing I can do for you is to go out for the day." And go out for the day she did. Strangely enough, Katharine did not resent this; she merely thought it a splendid example of what force of character Freya had. And it certainly did show that. To get back to Max, everybody seemed to agree it was perfectly natural that a young man, who had worked hard on an arduous dig and was about to be released for rest and a good time, should sacrifice himself and drive off into the blue to show a strange woman a good many years older than him, who knew little about archaeology, the sights of the country. Max seemed to take it as a matter of course. He was a grave-looking young man, and I felt slightly nervous of him. I worried whether I should offer some apology. I did did essay some kind of stumbling phrase to the effect that I had not myself suggested this tour, but Max was calm about it all. He said he had nothing particular to do. He was going back home by degrees, first travelling with the Woolleys, and then, since he had already been to Delphi, dividing from them and going up to see the Temple of Ba.s.sae and other places in Greece. He himself would quite enjoy going to Nippur. It was a most interesting site, where he always enjoyed goingand also Nejef and Kerbala, which were well worth seeing. So the day came when we started off. I enjoyed the day at Nippur very much, though it was extremely exhausting. We motored for hours over rough ground, and walked round what seemed acres of excavations. I don"t suppose I would have found it very interesting had I not had someone with me to explain it all. As it was I became more enamoured of digging than ever. Finally, at about seven o"clock at night, we came to Diwaniya, where we were to stay the night with the Ditchburns. I was reeling on my feet with the desire to sleep, but somehow or other managed to comb the sand out of my hair, wash it off my face, apply a little restorative powder, and struggle into some kind of evening dress. Mrs Ditchburn loved entertaining guests. She was a great talkerindeed never stopped talking, in a bright and cheerful voice. I was introduced to her husband, and placed next to him. He seemed to be a quiet man, which was perhaps to be expected, and for a long time sat in lowering silence. I made a few rather inane remarks about my sightseeing, to which he did not respond. On the other side of me was an American missionary. He too was very taciturn. When I looked sideways at him, I noticed that his hands were twisting and turning beneath the table, and that he was slowly tearing a handkerchief to shreds. I found that rather alarming, and wondered what occasioned it. His wife sat across the table, and she too seemed in a highly nervous condition. It was a curious evening. Mrs Ditchburn was in full social flight, chatting with her neighbours, talking to me and to Max. Max was responding reasonably well. The two missionaries, husband and wife, remained tongue-tied, the wife watching her husband desperately, and he still tearing his handkerchief to smaller and smaller shreds. In a dazed dream of half-sleep, ideas of a superb detective story came into my head. A missionary slowly going mad with the strain. The strain of what? The strain of something, at any rate. And wherever he has been, torn-up handkerchiefs, reduced to shreds, provide clues. Clues, handkerchiefs, shredsthe room reeled around me, as I nearly slipped off my chair with sleep. At this moment a harsh voice spoke in my left ear. "All archaeologists," said Mr Ditchburn with a kind of bitter venom, "are liars." I woke up and considered him and his statement. He threw it at me in the most challenging manner. I did not feel in the least competent to defend the veracity of archaeologists, so I merely said mildly. "Why do you think they are liars? What do they tell lies about?" essay some kind of stumbling phrase to the effect that I had not myself suggested this tour, but Max was calm about it all. He said he had nothing particular to do. He was going back home by degrees, first travelling with the Woolleys, and then, since he had already been to Delphi, dividing from them and going up to see the Temple of Ba.s.sae and other places in Greece. He himself would quite enjoy going to Nippur. It was a most interesting site, where he always enjoyed goingand also Nejef and Kerbala, which were well worth seeing. So the day came when we started off. I enjoyed the day at Nippur very much, though it was extremely exhausting. We motored for hours over rough ground, and walked round what seemed acres of excavations. I don"t suppose I would have found it very interesting had I not had someone with me to explain it all. As it was I became more enamoured of digging than ever. Finally, at about seven o"clock at night, we came to Diwaniya, where we were to stay the night with the Ditchburns. I was reeling on my feet with the desire to sleep, but somehow or other managed to comb the sand out of my hair, wash it off my face, apply a little restorative powder, and struggle into some kind of evening dress. Mrs Ditchburn loved entertaining guests. She was a great talkerindeed never stopped talking, in a bright and cheerful voice. I was introduced to her husband, and placed next to him. He seemed to be a quiet man, which was perhaps to be expected, and for a long time sat in lowering silence. I made a few rather inane remarks about my sightseeing, to which he did not respond. On the other side of me was an American missionary. He too was very taciturn. When I looked sideways at him, I noticed that his hands were twisting and turning beneath the table, and that he was slowly tearing a handkerchief to shreds. I found that rather alarming, and wondered what occasioned it. His wife sat across the table, and she too seemed in a highly nervous condition. It was a curious evening. Mrs Ditchburn was in full social flight, chatting with her neighbours, talking to me and to Max. Max was responding reasonably well. The two missionaries, husband and wife, remained tongue-tied, the wife watching her husband desperately, and he still tearing his handkerchief to smaller and smaller shreds. In a dazed dream of half-sleep, ideas of a superb detective story came into my head. A missionary slowly going mad with the strain. The strain of what? The strain of something, at any rate. And wherever he has been, torn-up handkerchiefs, reduced to shreds, provide clues. Clues, handkerchiefs, shredsthe room reeled around me, as I nearly slipped off my chair with sleep. At this moment a harsh voice spoke in my left ear. "All archaeologists," said Mr Ditchburn with a kind of bitter venom, "are liars." I woke up and considered him and his statement. He threw it at me in the most challenging manner. I did not feel in the least competent to defend the veracity of archaeologists, so I merely said mildly. "Why do you think they are liars? What do they tell lies about?"

"Everything," said Mr Ditchburn. "Everything. Saying they know the dates of things, and when things happenedthat this is 7,000 years old, and the other is 3,000 years old, that this king reigned then, and another king reigned afterwards! Liars! All liars, every one of them!"

"Surely," I said. "that can"t be so?"

"Can"t it?" Mr Ditchburn uttered a sardonic laugh and relapsed into silence. I addressed a few more words to my missionary, but I got little more response. Then Mr Ditchburn broke the silence once more, and incidentally revealed a possible clue to his bitterness by saying: "As usual, I have had to turn out of my dressing-room for this archaeological chap."

"Oh," I said uncomfortably, "I am so sorry. I didn"t realise.

"It happens every time," said Mr Ditchburn. "She"s always doing itmy wife, I mean. Has to be asking someone or other to put up with us. No, it"s not youyou"ve got one of the regular guest-rooms. We"ve got three of those, but that isn"t enough for Elsie. No, she"s always got to fill up all the rooms there are, and then have my dressing-room as well. How I stand it I don"t know." I said again I was sorry. I could not have been more uncomfortable, but presently I was once more bending all my energies on keeping awake. I could only just manage it. After dinner I pleaded to be allowed to go to bed. Mrs Ditchburn was much disappointed, because she had had plans for a splendid rubber of bridge, but by this time my eyes were practically closed, and I only just managed to stumble upstairs, throw off my clothes, and fall into bed. We left at five o"clock next morning. Travelling in Iraq was my introduction to a somewhat strenuous way of living. We visited Nejef, which was indeed a wonderful place: a real necropolis, a city of the dead, with the dark figures of the black-veiled Muslim women wailing and moving about it. It was a hot-bed of extremists, and it was not always possible to visit it. You had to inform the police first, and they would then be on the lookout to see that no outbreaks of fanaticism occurred. From Nejef we went to Kerbala, where there was a beautiful mosque, with a gold and turquoise dome. It was the first that I had seen close up. We stayed the night there at the police post. A roll of bedding that Katharine had lent me was unfastened on the floor and my bed was made in a small police cell. Max had another police cell, and urged me to invoke his a.s.sistance if needed during the night. In the days of my Victorian upbringing I should have thought it most strange that I should awaken a young man whom I hardly knew and ask him to be kind enough to escort me to the lavatory, yet this soon seemed a matter of course. I woke Max, he summoned a policeman, the policeman fetched a lantern, and we three tramped along long corridors and finally arrived at a remarkably evil-smelling room containing a hole in the floor. Max and the policeman waited politely outside the door to light me back to my couch. Dinner was served at the police post on a table outside, with a large moon above us, and the constant monotonous yet musical croaking of frogs. Whenever I hear frogs I think of Kerbala and that evening. The policeman sat down with us. Now and again he said a few words of English rather carefully, but mostly spoke Arabic with Max, who occasionally translated a few words which were addressed to me. After one of the refreshing silences that always form part of Eastern contacts and accord so harmoniously with one"s feelings, our companion suddenly broke his silence. "Hail to thee, blithe spirit!" he said. "Bird thou never wert." I looked at him, startled. He proceeded to finish the poem. "I learned that," he said, nodding his head. "Very good, in English." I said it was very good. That seemed to end that part of the conversation. I should never have envisaged myself coming all the way to Iraq so as to have Sh.e.l.ley"s "Ode to a Skylark" recited to me by an Iraqi policeman in an Eastern garden at midnight. We breakfasted early the next morning. A gardener, who was picking some roses, advanced with a bouquet. I stood expectantly, ready to smile graciously. Somewhat to my discomposure he pa.s.sed me without a glance and handed them with a deep bow to Max. Max laughed, and pointed out to me that I was now in the East, where offerings were made to men and not to women. We embarked with our belongings, bedding, stack of fresh bread, and the roses, and started off again. We were going to make a detour on our way back to Baghdad to see the Arab city of Ukhaidir. This lay far out in the desert. The scenery was monotonous, and to pa.s.s the time we sang songs, calling upon a repertoire of things we both knew, starting with Fr ere Jacques, Fr ere Jacques, and proceeding to various other ballads and ditties. We saw Ukhaidir, wonderful in its isolation, and about an hour or two after we had left it came upon a desert lake of clear, sparkling blue water. It was outrageously hot, and I longed to bathe. "Would you really like to?" said Max. "I don"t see why you shouldn"t." and proceeding to various other ballads and ditties. We saw Ukhaidir, wonderful in its isolation, and about an hour or two after we had left it came upon a desert lake of clear, sparkling blue water. It was outrageously hot, and I longed to bathe. "Would you really like to?" said Max. "I don"t see why you shouldn"t."

"Could I?" I looked thoughtfully at my roll of bedding and small suit-case. "But I haven"t got any bathing-dress"

"Haven"t you got anything that wouldwelldo?" asked Max delicately. I considered, and in the end, dressed in a pink silk vest and a double pair of knickers. I was ready. The driver, the soul of politeness and delicacy, as indeed all Arabs are, moved away. Max, in shorts and a vest, joined me, and we swam in the blue water. It was heaventhe world seemed perfector at least it did until we went to start the car again. It had sunk gently into the sand and refused to move, and I now realised some of the hazards of desert driving. Max and the driver, pulling out steel mats, spades, and various other things from the car, endeavoured to free us, but with no success. Hour succeeded hour. It was still ragingly hot. I lay down in the shelter of the car, or what shelter there was on one side of it, and went to sleep. Max told me afterwards, whether truthfully or not, that it was at that moment he decided that I would make an excellent wife for him. "No asked Max delicately. I considered, and in the end, dressed in a pink silk vest and a double pair of knickers. I was ready. The driver, the soul of politeness and delicacy, as indeed all Arabs are, moved away. Max, in shorts and a vest, joined me, and we swam in the blue water. It was heaventhe world seemed perfector at least it did until we went to start the car again. It had sunk gently into the sand and refused to move, and I now realised some of the hazards of desert driving. Max and the driver, pulling out steel mats, spades, and various other things from the car, endeavoured to free us, but with no success. Hour succeeded hour. It was still ragingly hot. I lay down in the shelter of the car, or what shelter there was on one side of it, and went to sleep. Max told me afterwards, whether truthfully or not, that it was at that moment he decided that I would make an excellent wife for him. "No fuss!" fuss!" he said. "You didn"t complain or say that it was my fault, or that we never should have stopped there. You seemed not to care whether we went on or not. Really it was at that moment I began to think you were wonderful." Ever since he said that to me I have tried to live up to the reputation I had made for myself. I am fairly good at taking things as they come, and not getting in a state. Also I have the useful art of being able to go to sleep at any moment, anywhere. We were not on a caravan route here, and it was possible that no lorries or anything else might come this way for days, perhaps as long as a week. We had with us a guard, one of the Camel Corps, and in the end he said he would go and get help within, presumably, twenty-four hours, or at any rate within forty-eight. He left us what water he had. "We of the Desert Camel Corps," he said loftily, "do not need to drink in emergency." He stalked off, and I looked after him with some foreboding. This was adventure, but I hoped it was going to turn out a pleasant one. The water did not seem very much, and the thought of not having water made me thirsty straight away. However, we were lucky. A miracle happened. One hour later, a T Ford with fourteen pa.s.sengers drove out of the horizon. Sitting beside the driver was our Camel Corps friend, waving an exuberant rifle. At intervals on our journey back to Baghdad we stopped to look at he said. "You didn"t complain or say that it was my fault, or that we never should have stopped there. You seemed not to care whether we went on or not. Really it was at that moment I began to think you were wonderful." Ever since he said that to me I have tried to live up to the reputation I had made for myself. I am fairly good at taking things as they come, and not getting in a state. Also I have the useful art of being able to go to sleep at any moment, anywhere. We were not on a caravan route here, and it was possible that no lorries or anything else might come this way for days, perhaps as long as a week. We had with us a guard, one of the Camel Corps, and in the end he said he would go and get help within, presumably, twenty-four hours, or at any rate within forty-eight. He left us what water he had. "We of the Desert Camel Corps," he said loftily, "do not need to drink in emergency." He stalked off, and I looked after him with some foreboding. This was adventure, but I hoped it was going to turn out a pleasant one. The water did not seem very much, and the thought of not having water made me thirsty straight away. However, we were lucky. A miracle happened. One hour later, a T Ford with fourteen pa.s.sengers drove out of the horizon. Sitting beside the driver was our Camel Corps friend, waving an exuberant rifle. At intervals on our journey back to Baghdad we stopped to look at tells, tells, and walked round them picking up sherds of pottery. I was particularly enchanted with all the glazed fragments. The brilliant colours: green, turquoise, blue, and a sort of golden patterned onethey were all of a much later period than that in which Max was interested, but he was indulgent of my fancies, and we collected a large bag of them. After we arrived in Baghdad, and I had been returned to my hotel, I spread out my mackintosh, dipped all the sherds in water, and arranged them in glistening iridescent patterns of colour. Max, kindly falling in with my whim, supplied his own mackintosh and added four sherds to the display. I caught him looking at me with the air of an indulgent scholar looking kindly at a foolish but not unlikeable childand, really, I believe at that time that and walked round them picking up sherds of pottery. I was particularly enchanted with all the glazed fragments. The brilliant colours: green, turquoise, blue, and a sort of golden patterned onethey were all of a much later period than that in which Max was interested, but he was indulgent of my fancies, and we collected a large bag of them. After we arrived in Baghdad, and I had been returned to my hotel, I spread out my mackintosh, dipped all the sherds in water, and arranged them in glistening iridescent patterns of colour. Max, kindly falling in with my whim, supplied his own mackintosh and added four sherds to the display. I caught him looking at me with the air of an indulgent scholar looking kindly at a foolish but not unlikeable childand, really, I believe at that time that was was his att.i.tude towards me. I have always loved things like seash.e.l.ls or little bits of coloured rockall the odd treasures one picks up as a child. A bright bird"s feather, a variegated leafthese things, I sometimes feel, are the his att.i.tude towards me. I have always loved things like seash.e.l.ls or little bits of coloured rockall the odd treasures one picks up as a child. A bright bird"s feather, a variegated leafthese things, I sometimes feel, are the true true treasures of life, and one enjoys them better than topazes, emeralds, or expensive little boxes by Faberge. Katharine and Len Woolley had already arrived in Baghdad, and were not at all pleased with us for having arrived twenty-four hours latethis owing to our detour to Ukhaidir. I was exonerated from blame since I had been merely a parcel carried about and taken to places with no knowledge of where I was going. treasures of life, and one enjoys them better than topazes, emeralds, or expensive little boxes by Faberge. Katharine and Len Woolley had already arrived in Baghdad, and were not at all pleased with us for having arrived twenty-four hours latethis owing to our detour to Ukhaidir. I was exonerated from blame since I had been merely a parcel carried about and taken to places with no knowledge of where I was going.

"Max might have known known that we should be worried," Katharine said. "We might have sent out a search party or done something silly." Max repeated patiently that he was sorry; it had not occurred to him that they would be alarmed. A couple of days later we left Baghdad by train for Kirkuk and Mosul, on the first leg of our journey home. My friend Colonel Dwyer came to Baghdad North Station to see us off. "You"ll have to stand up for yourself, you know," he remarked to me, confidentially. that we should be worried," Katharine said. "We might have sent out a search party or done something silly." Max repeated patiently that he was sorry; it had not occurred to him that they would be alarmed. A couple of days later we left Baghdad by train for Kirkuk and Mosul, on the first leg of our journey home. My friend Colonel Dwyer came to Baghdad North Station to see us off. "You"ll have to stand up for yourself, you know," he remarked to me, confidentially.

"Stand up for myself? What do you mean?"

"With Her Ladyship there." He nodded to where Katharine Woolley was talking to a friend.

"But she"s been so nice to me."

"Oh yes, I can see you feel the charm. All of us have felt it from time to time. To be honest, I feel it still. That woman could get me where she wants me any time, but, as I say, you"ve you"ve got to stand up for yourself. She could charm the birds off a tree and make them feel it was only natural." The train was making those peculiar banshee-like wails which I soon learnt were characteristic of the Iraqi railways. It was a piercing, eerie noisein fact, a woman wailing for her demon lover would have expressed it exactly. However, it was nothing so romantic: merely a locomotive raring to go. We climbed aboardKatharine and I shared one sleeping compartment, Max and Len the otherand we were off. We reached Kirkuk the following morning, had breakfast in the rest-house, and motored to Mosul. It was at that time a six to eight-hour run, most of it on a very rutted road, and included the crossing of the river Zab by ferry. The ferry-boat was so primitive that one felt almost Biblical embarking upon it. At Mosul, too, we stayed at the rest-house, which had a charming garden. Mosul was to be the centre of my life for many years in the future, but it did not impress me then, mainly because we did little sightseeing. Here I met Dr and Mrs MacLeod, who ran the hospital, and were to be great friends. They were both doctors, and whilst Peter MacLeod was in charge of the hospital his wife Peggy would occasionally a.s.sist him with certain operations. These had to be performed in a peculiar fashion owing to the fact that he was not allowed to see or touch the patient. It was impossible for a Muslim woman to be operated on by a man, even though he was a doctor. Screens, I gather, had to be rigged up; Dr MacLeod would stand outside the screen with his wife inside; he would direct her how to proceed, and she, in turn, would describe to him the conditions of the organs as she arrived at them, and all the various details. After two or three days in Mosul we started on our travels proper. We spent one night at a rest-house at Tell Afar, which was two hours or so from Mosul, then at five the following morning motored off in a trek across country. We visited some sites on the Euphrates, and departed to the north, in search of Len"s old friend Basrawi, who was Sheikh of one of the tribes there. After a good many crossings of wadis, losing and finding our way again, we finally arrived towards the evening, and were given a great welcome, a terrific meal, and at last retired for the night. There were two tumble-down rooms in a mud-brick house which were apportioned to us, with two small iron beds diagonally in the corners of each. A slight difficulty arose here. One room had a corner bed with an excellent ceiling above itthat is to say no water actually dripped through or fell on the bed: a phenomenon we were able to observe because it had started to rain. The other bed, however, was in a draughty corner with a good deal of water dripping on to it. We had a look at the second room. This one had an equally doubtful roof, and was smaller; the beds were narrower and there was less air and light. got to stand up for yourself. She could charm the birds off a tree and make them feel it was only natural." The train was making those peculiar banshee-like wails which I soon learnt were characteristic of the Iraqi railways. It was a piercing, eerie noisein fact, a woman wailing for her demon lover would have expressed it exactly. However, it was nothing so romantic: merely a locomotive raring to go. We climbed aboardKatharine and I shared one sleeping compartment, Max and Len the otherand we were off. We reached Kirkuk the following morning, had breakfast in the rest-house, and motored to Mosul. It was at that time a six to eight-hour run, most of it on a very rutted road, and included the crossing of the river Zab by ferry. The ferry-boat was so primitive that one felt almost Biblical embarking upon it. At Mosul, too, we stayed at the rest-house, which had a charming garden. Mosul was to be the centre of my life for many years in the future, but it did not impress me then, mainly because we did little sightseeing. Here I met Dr and Mrs MacLeod, who ran the hospital, and were to be great friends. They were both doctors, and whilst Peter MacLeod was in charge of the hospital his wife Peggy would occasionally a.s.sist him with certain operations. These had to be performed in a peculiar fashion owing to the fact that he was not allowed to see or touch the patient. It was impossible for a Muslim woman to be operated on by a man, even though he was a doctor. Screens, I gather, had to be rigged up; Dr MacLeod would stand outside the screen with his wife inside; he would direct her how to proceed, and she, in turn, would describe to him the conditions of the organs as she arrived at them, and all the various details. After two or three days in Mosul we started on our travels proper. We spent one night at a rest-house at Tell Afar, which was two hours or so from Mosul, then at five the following morning motored off in a trek across country. We visited some sites on the Euphrates, and departed to the north, in search of Len"s old friend Basrawi, who was Sheikh of one of the tribes there. After a good many crossings of wadis, losing and finding our way again, we finally arrived towards the evening, and were given a great welcome, a terrific meal, and at last retired for the night. There were two tumble-down rooms in a mud-brick house which were apportioned to us, with two small iron beds diagonally in the corners of each. A slight difficulty arose here. One room had a corner bed with an excellent ceiling above itthat is to say no water actually dripped through or fell on the bed: a phenomenon we were able to observe because it had started to rain. The other bed, however, was in a draughty corner with a good deal of water dripping on to it. We had a look at the second room. This one had an equally doubtful roof, and was smaller; the beds were narrower and there was less air and light.

"I think, Katharine," said Len, "that you and Agatha had better have the smaller room with the two dry beds, and we"ll have the other."

"I think," said Katharine, "that I really must must have the larger room and the good bed. I won"t sleep a wink if there is water dripping on my face." have the larger room and the good bed. I won"t sleep a wink if there is water dripping on my face."

She went firmly across to the delectable corner and placed her things on the bed.

"I expect I can pull my bed out a bit and avoid the worst," I said.

"I really don"t see," said Katharine, "why Agatha should be forced to have this bad bed with the roof dripping on it. One of you men can have it.

Either Max or Len had better go in the bad bed in this room, and the other one can go in the other room with Agatha." This suggestion was considered, and Katharine, sizing up Max and Len to see which she thought would be the more useful to her, finally decided on the privilege of loving Len, and sent Max to share the small room. Only our cheerful host seem

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