it. The bar doesn't look particularly
hopeful, if I'm unable to last out a long case or if I can't appear at
all; I'm afraid my standing's hardly good enough to convince any one if
I say I've got a case in another court. I think you'll have to expound
to me the whole art of writing plays; that's the sort of thing for my
one-hour-on-and-six-hours-off condition._

"_You're such a celebrity nowadays that I suppose you simply won't look
at your humble friends! I saw your first thing the last time I was
home--it seems like the Dark Ages now, before my little sojourn in
Mittel-Europa. I imagine you're sick of hearing it praised, especially
by people who don't know anything about it, but I thought it was an
amazingly good play. The moment I was within range of English
papers--this was before I got your letter--I went through the
advertisements to see if you were still 'drawing all London' (I believe
that's the phrase) and found that yet another was going very strong. You
seem to have struck oil. The best of good luck to you._

"_There's really nothing to tell you about this place. I believe you
know Chateau d'Oex; well, there's a little colony of British prisoners
of war here, some more knocked about than others, but all pretty glad to
be out of Hunland. The Swiss gave us a great reception, and we're
allowed pretty fair liberty, though we can't wander at large over the
whole of Switzerland. The War Office is very busy trying to start
industries out here to keep the men employed and to give training to the
unskilled so that they'll have something to do when they're discharged.
You may remember that before I was called, I spent a year with a firm of
chartered accountants, so I'm supposed to know something of
book-keeping. I don't put a very high price on my service, however,
because my attendance is rather erratic._

"_I suppose it's out of the question for you to come here? Yet a holiday
would do you good, I'm sure. If you can't manage it, we must wait till
the end of the war or till I'm sent back. And then I dine with
you--sumptuously--and make you take me to the latest of your popular
successes._

"_Write again, old man. Your letter did me no end of good._

"_Ever yours_

"_Jack Waring._"

Eric read the letter twice and then locked it in a drawer. It was
characteristic of the writer in that he said hardly anything of himself.
That might have been expected, and there was no need to be frightened by
the hand-writing.