suspicion of enemy schemes each of which caused Sir Mark to sound a warning. These were the ‘brain-storms.’ I should like to record a few impressions of different occasions. The first was a day in April, 1917, in Paris. I was due at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to give information about Zionism. Sir Mark also came; he was a sincere friend of France and was anxious that Zionism should have the same appreciation in France as in England. He came in great haste by motor from the Front, where he had been making a visit, and went to the Hotel Lotti. He arrived early in the morning after a tiring night’s journey. At that time Doctor Weizmann was fully occupied with most important affairs in England. It fell to me to begin the official work in France, after we had together prepared all our plans. Sykes was impatient: in spite of his complete confidence in us, he could not refrain from remaining near me, always ready with advice and help. We worked together for some hours. I departed on my mission and we arranged for him to wait for me at the hotel. But as I was crossing the Quai d’Orsay on my return from the Foreign Office I came across Sykes. He had not had the patience to wait. We walked on together, and I gave him an outline of the proceedings. This did not satisfy him; he studied every detail; I had to give him full notes and he drew up a minute report. “That’s a good day’s work,” he said with shining eyes. The second was a day in April, 1917, in Rome. Sykes had been there before me and could not wait my arrival. He had gone to the East. I put up at the hotel: Sykes had ordered rooms for me. I went to the British Embassy; letters and instructions from Sykes were waiting for me there. I went to the Italian Government Offices; Sykes had been there too; then to the Vatican, where Sykes had again prepared my way. It seemed to me as if his presence was wherever I went, but all the time he was far away in Arabia, whence I received telegraphic messages. The third was at the London Opera House Meeting of the 2nd of December, 1917. It was a truly brilliant gathering in a packed house, a festive token of the bond of brotherhood between Great Britain and ancient Israel. Sykes modestly surveyed the assembly. The majority of the audience scarcely knew him, and only a few were aware that this was a great day in his life. When he began to speak the audience recognised that one was addressing them who had made Zionism a part of his life. He showed no flaring enthusiasm, but rather a quiet elation, a devotion to the subject. On leaving, he and I shook hands――no words were necessary because we understood each other.