A few days after the copyright session, Clemens, responding to the toast, “Literature,” at the Royal Literary Fund Banquet, made London laugh again, and early in June he was at the Savoy Hotel welcoming Sir Henry Irving back to England after one of his successful American tours.

On the Fourth of July (1900) Clemens dined with the Lord Chief-Justice, and later attended an American banquet at the Hotel Cecil.  He arrived late, when a number of the guests were already going.  They insisted, however, that he make a speech, which he did, and considered the evening ended.  It was not quite over.  A sequel to his “Luck” story, published nine years before, suddenly developed.

To go back a little, the reader may recall that “Luck” was a story which Twichell had told him as being supposedly true.  The hero of it was a military officer who had risen to the highest rank through what at least seemed to be sheer luck, including a number of fortunate blunders.  Clemens thought the story improbable, but wrote it and laid it away for several years, offering it at last in the general house-cleaning which took place after the first collapse of the machine.  It was published in Harper’s Magazine for August, 1891, and something less than a year later, in Rome, an English gentleman—­a new acquaintance—­said to him: 

“Mr. Clemens, shall you go to England?”

“Very likely.”

“Shall you take your tomahawk with you?”

“Why—­yes, if it shall seem best.”

“Well, it will.  Be advised.  Take it with you.”

“Why?”

“Because of that sketch of yours entitled ‘Luck.’  That sketch is current in England, and you will surely need your tomahawk.”

“What makes you think so?”

“I think so because the hero of the sketch will naturally want your scalp, and will probably apply for it.  Be advised.  Take your tomahawk along.”

“Why, even with it I sha’n’t stand any chance, because I sha’n’t know him when he applies, and he will have my scalp before I know what his errand is.”

“Come, do you mean to say that you don’t know who the hero of that sketch is?”

“Indeed I haven’t any idea who the hero of the sketch is.  Who is it?”

His informant hesitated a moment, then named a name of world-wide military significance.

As Mask Twain finished his Fourth of July speech at the Cecil and started to sit down a splendidly uniformed and decorated personage at his side said: 

“Mr. Clemens, I have been wanting to know you a long time,” and he was looking down into the face of the hero of “Luck.”

“I was caught unprepared,” he said in his notes of it.  “I didn’t sit down—­I fell down.  I didn’t have my tomahawk, and I didn’t know what would happen.  But he was, composed, and pretty soon I got composed and we had a good, friendly time.  If he had ever heard of that sketch of mine he did not manifest it in any way, and at twelve, midnight, I took my scalp home intact.”