Why when, in Paris, I had found a connection of congenial friendships, a milieu I liked, considerable recognition of my research work and many facilities for pursuing my investigations into the human hand further, did I leave it? It was a good and promising life. The fact was that I had tasted the atmosphere of stability and wellbeing which pervaded London and, as I thought, England. I made too much of this, I am sure, because of my craving for security. I deluded myself with the dream of an 'Old World' life, known to me from my childhood in Germany. Before Maria Huxley invited me to visit her in London, Professor Wallon had repeatedly thrown out warnings not only of an inevitable war with Germany but also of the dangerous weakness of the French Government, which changed about every six weeks during my time in France. Moreover, the contacts I had made in London promised an even wider field for my research than I was likely to obtain in Paris. Dr (now Sir) Julian Huxley, who at that time was Secretary of the Royal Zoological Society, agreed that I might study the extremities of monkeys and apes at the Zoo. I had met Bertha Bracy, a prominent Quaker concerned with help for refugees, and she promised her support if I came to England. The presence of the Huxleys and of Lady Ottoline weighed heavily in the London scale of the balance, as against the feeling of doom created by the instability of the French Administrations. On 26th October, 1936 I was on the ferry boat from Calais to Dover.