Saturday, November 20th, Mr. BALFOUR arrived. The secretary began
to talk about a date for our excursion.

On Sunday, November 21st, I became involved in conversation with Lord
ROBERT CECIL in his room in his hotel. He moved towards the window,
and as he did so Armenia, Vilna and all the Powers that want to come
into the League and all the Powers that want to stay out of the League
faded from his mind, and he called attention to the Crown of Mont
Blanc and fixed his eagle eye upon the mole-hill in between.

On Monday, November 22nd, the secretary came to me and ordered me to
provide passports, duly _visaed_, for The Saleve party--seven in
all, myself included. I told him that I would appeal direct to the
delegates themselves, with whom I had already done some defensive
propaganda on my own. He told me it was nothing to do with the
delegates; it was the delegates' ladies. Fool that I was, I had never
thought of them!

That night I wrote in my diary: "At Geneva there is a mountain. It is
called The Saleve--a nasty name for a nasty mountain. On Saturday I
shall be on the top of it. I always knew that the League of Nations
would make trouble."

On Tuesday, November 23rd, I sent an emissary among the ladies to
persuade them that the summit of The Saleve was loathsome. The
emissary succeeded in establishing this point by contrasting it
unfavourably with the Crown of Mont Blanc. The ladies thanked the
emissary cordially for her most interesting information and said they
would take steps to see the Crown of _Mont Blanc_ more nearly, even if
those steps had to be up The Saleve.

That night I wrote in my diary: "For a year I have fought and won, but
on Saturday the Crown of Mont Blanc will witness my defeat, and the
whole range of the Alps will look on in silent contempt."

On Wednesday morning, November 24th, I met Mr. BALFOUR crossing the
Pont du Mont Blanc. He was looking at It with that dreamy smile of
his, which seems to laugh at the littleness of man and the futility of
his policies. That finished me.

On Wednesday night, November 24th-25th (read your paper to witness if
I lie), the Crown of Mont Blanc fell off ... I have left The Saleve
where it is. What does it matter now?

Yours ever, Henry.

* * * * *

[Illustration: "HULLO, BROWN! FANCY RUNNING UP AGAINST YOU. HOW SMALL
THE WORLD IS, TO BE SURE!"

"Y-YES. TERRIBLY SMALL, ISN'T IT?"]

* * * *