Edgar Wallace by Himself by Edgar Wallace — Read

In those days there were three forces at Carmelite House. The first of these was Alfred. I shall never forget the day I first met him. The setting was unique: it was his beautiful, boudoir-like office on the first floor; a long, noble room, at which I gaped in awe. The panelled walls, the concealed lights, the Empire furniture, the statue of Napoleon and the pastel portrait of Mrs. Alfred Harmsworth on an easel. And against this background, a youthful, plumpish, smooth-faced man with searching eyes and fair hair that was brushed over his forehead, a glaring tie. Vivid little fragments go to make up the picture.

He talked quickly, earnestly, convincingly. You felt that to argue was to invite the thunder-bolts of Jove. He had a ready laugh and a charm which is beyond description. The Chief remains for me an almost sacred personage. I did not know him in the days when disease had gripped him and he was slipping to death. Then I believe he was very hard with his best friends, a tyrant who spared none. But I knew the normal man, the lovable "Mr. Alfred", generous to a fault. Once he saved me from ruin, and that is a service that I shall never forget.