As I sit down to write here amidst the shadows of vine-leaves under the bluesky of southern Italy, it comes to me with a certain quality of astonishmentthat my participation in these amazing adventures of Mr. Cavor was, after all,the outcome of the purest accident. It might have been any one. I fell intothese things at a time when I thought myself removed from the slightestpossibility of disturbing experiences. I had gone to Lympne because I hadimagined it the most uneventful place in the world. “Here, at anyrate,” said I, “I shall find peace and a chance to work!”
And this book is the sequel. So utterly at variance is destiny with all thelittle plans of men. I may perhaps mention here that very recently I had comean ugly cropper in certain business enterprises. Sitting now surrounded by allthe circumstances of wealth, there is a luxury in admitting my extremity. I canadmit, even, that to a certain extent my disas