I scribble this while I may. I've of course come in for a family crisis, so I can't go back to Hamspray.
Uncle Trevor has just died. --He was taken ill with 'retention of urine' just before we left; and the current story is that he then took to his bed & refused to eat. The truth, confided to me under the seal of profoundest secrecy by Pippa just now, is that a specialist who came in discovered that he had cancer. Whereupon Roland with extraordinary good sense gave orders that he was to be given nothing to eat--so that in a fortnight he died of starvation. There was absolutely no pain & practically no discomfort even. He died this morning at six.
I've therefore got to help do the business: interview undertakers, get death certificates, search for a will--if any, etc., etc. I still hope to go back to Hamspray for the weekend, but it's doubtful.
I've seen Holmes for a moment, and what they say isn't so black as I feared. The MS. didn't come back from the printers till very late, and they only posted it on Sept. 18th: 3 days before we moved. It was carefully wrapped up and sealed, but not registered, and addressed to the Pension Doering. I still hope I may hear from you that you've got it. Otherwise, will you call there & enquire?
I'll tell you about the psi-alpha meeting soon.
Goodbye, my love.
Your James
Trevor was a family eccentric and James's favorite uncle. He wore an overcoat even in the summer.