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Next we engaged a small gang of those men who build in canvas and plaster such very convincing structures for big exhibitions as those at Earl's Court and elsewhere; buildings to look exactly like prisons or castles or cathedrals or anything that is wanted. These men took great loads of material down to Lulworth and made no bones about producing a veritable castle, ramparts and all.
In the meantime a rumour went round the village that a 'Sir' was coming to live in it with his entourage for several days. We engaged rooms for as many as could be accommodated at the Castle Inn, appropriately named, although ours was the only castle within a mile or two, and the rest were accommodated in various parts of the village. The whole place frothed with excitement and everybody wanted to know when the 'Sir' was coming and where the 'Sir' would stay and for how long.
The castle, when it was finished, looked as if it had been there for centuries and would stand for as long again. The 'ghost5 had real rocks to walk upon, which he said hurt his feet badly, though he looked much too transparent to care for anything so concrete as that — when he has portrayed by double-photography. We all had a very pleasant time at Lulworth during those few days and when I went down there again a year or two later I had the greatest difficulty in rinding the site of the 'Castle' for not the slightest trace of it remained. All the people were still asking for news of the 'Sir' and probably a few of them will remember his visit now, for nothing so grand had ever happened to Lulworth Cove before.
But before the castle was cleared away we used it for some of the scenes in a film of the Princes in the Tower with little Reggie Sheffield (Eric Desmond) as one of the young victims. However, most of the Lulworth pictures were of a more cheerful, not to say hilarious, nature like Tilly and the Coastguards, one of the last of the famous Tilly series, and there was another whose title I have forgotten in which Chrissie White played the part of a mermaid with a long fair wig and a plait, and there was a reversing film with a barrel which rolled a long way and smashed itself to bits over a cliff: then healed itself again and sailed right out to sea.
About this time (we are still in 19 13), Sir Charles Wyndham, the famous actor-manager, honoured us with a visit. It was really rather sad, for this fine artist, whom I had seen and admired in so many delightful plays, came to Walton to make a film of his
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