Black August gs-10

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Black August gs-10 Page 8

by Dennis Wheatley


  In the queue strangers were talking together with unaccustomed freedom and exchanging the wildest rumours. The news of the sailors' advance on London was now common property. A story was current that the Scottish Commander had been assassinated, another that one of the principal power stations on the Underground had been wrecked that morning. Certainly trains were only running on two of the lines, and those had curtailed their services. When at last Kenyon reached the cylinders he asked for 5,000 atmospheres, but the man shook his head. One thousand was the limit for any car, irrespective of its size, and the price of gas ten shillings a thousand.

  'But the price is controlled,' Kenyon protested.

  'Can't help it,' said the man, 'if the rush continues it'll be a couple of quid termorrer do I renew your cylinders or not?'

  Kenyon promptly parted with his money and drove away, but the episode made him more thoughtful than ever. Events seemed to be moving now with such terrifying speed. What would London be like in another twenty four hours with all these people abandoning the sinking ship, and the services breaking down? He began to feel guilty about detaining Veronica for another night, but it had never occurred to him that the trouble would accelerate so rapidly, and the more he thought of Ann the more determined he became not to leave London until he had satisfied himself about her future safety.

  He was neither rake nor saint, but had acquired a reasonable experience of women for his years, and he could remember no one who had aroused his mental interest and physical desire to the same pitch as Ann. Now, in the customary manner of the human male when seized with longing for the companionship of one particular female, he was endowing her with every idealistic and romantic perfection.

  Back at Grosvenor Square he decided that he ought to discuss the increasing gravity of the situation with Veronica at once, but her maid, Lucy, informed him that she had gone out.

  At the sight of Lucy's trim figure a pert young hussy he had always thought her it occurred to him that she and his own man ought to be given the opportunity to rejoin their own families if they wished, and he put the proposition to them.

  Lucy tossed her head. 'That is a matter for her ladyship, milord, though I wouldn't leave her with things like this even if she wished it. She'd never be able to manage on her own.'

  'If it please your lordship I would prefer to carry on with my duties.'

  'Well, that's nice of you both.' Kenyon nodded. 'Unless I receive instructions to take on a job of work I propose to leave for Banners first thing tomorrow morning. You can drive a car can't you, Carter?'

  'Yes, milord.'

  'Then Lady Veronica will come with me, and you can take Lucy with you in her ladyship's two seater. Better do any packing tonight. I take it His Grace has sent the rest of the staff down to Banners?'

  'There's Moggs and his wife still here, milord.'

  'I see well, I'll have a word with them.' Kenyon went downstairs to the grim gloomy basement. He paused to look into the store room and satisfied himself that although tinned goods and luxuries had been difficult to procure for months past, the chef, with the ducal purse behind him, had not allowed his reserves to become depleted. The contents of the shelves would have stocked a fair sized grocer's shop. Then he went on to the house keeper's room where he found Moggs, and his wife, the laundry woman of the establishment, enjoying a large pot of very black tea. He told them that the situation was growing worse from hour to hour, and suggested that they might like to make other arrangements.

  Old Moggs, who cleaned the boots and apparently spent most of his day in the area, jerked a grimy thumb at his wife.

  'Me and the missis 'ad better stay 'ere, milord can't leave the 'ouse empty, can we?'

  'I don't like to,' Kenyon replied, 'but I'm thinking more of you than the house at the moment.'

  'Very good of your lordship, I'm sure, but we'd just as soon stay 'ere as I told 'Is Grace, if it's all the same to you ain't that so, Martha?'

  'I'm willin', Tom,' said his wife.

  'All right,' Kenyon agreed, realising suddenly that the couple might have no home to go to, but thankful not to have to leave the house untenanted. 'Take what you want from the storeroom, but I should go canny with it if I were you there is enough there to last you a couple of months if you're careful.'

  "Thank you, milord, an' my best respects.' Old Moggs touched an imaginary forelock.

  'Good bye then, and good luck to you both!'

  'Same to you, milord, same to you,' came the quick response as he left them in the eternal half light which perpetually envelops the dwellers below stairs in most London houses.

  Up in his own study once more he began to pack a few of his more precious possessions into a couple of suit cases. He was growing more and more certain that if they ever got back to Grosvenor Square they would find it sacked and looted. With a regretful glance he ran his eye along the bookshelves, faced in reality now with the old problem: 'What books would you choose if left on a desert island?' Windwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man, that wonderful survey of the history of every civilisation. Magee's great new achievement Time and the Unconscious, enough suggestive matter there to keep the most able brains speculating for a lifetime; and John Cowper Powys' Glastonbury Romance with its half million words. These were Kenyon's choice for the open boat, bound he knew not whither.

  It occurred to him that he ought to ring up the Party Office and see if they had decided on any job for him. If they had, Carter would have to run Veronica down to Banners; but the man he wished to speak to was not in, and the secretary had no message for him.

  Restlessly he wondered now if Ann would turn up, even if she had meant to in the first place. He could not expect her before seven anyhow, but would she come at all in this state of crisis and with transport breaking down? He began to hatch fresh plans in case of her non appearance, but he needed Veronica's help and she had not yet returned.

  It was nearly six, so he switched on the wireless to hear the latest bulletin. The Sappers had performed miracles with the wrecked bridge and the trains were running to Glasgow. Negotiations were proceeding which it was hoped would pacify the sailors. There was now reason to hope that the United States would lift their embargo as far as Britain was concerned, and extend further credits to ensure an adequate food supply. The Government were taking active measures to cope with the situation.

  Kenyon turned off the instrument in disgust. Why was there no news of Cardiff or of the trouble in the East End that morning? The Government were trying to stay the panic by suppressing the most vital facts. Impatient now for Veronica's return, and unable to settle down to anything, he went out on to the front doorstep to watch for her.

  A low built powerful Bentley roared out of Carlos Place at a hideously dangerous speed, but the driver, catching sight of Kenyon, pulled up a few yards past him with screaming tyres. Kenyon knew the car and ran down to meet him. It was young Bunny Cawnthorp, dressed as an officer of Greyshirts. There was a nasty gash across his forehead and his face was smeared with blood.

  'I say! Are you bad?' Kenyon asked.

  'No, nothing serious; we're having hell in the East End with these ruddy Communists. I can't stay though, only stopped to tell you to get out; London will be Red tomorrow.'

  'I'm off first thing in the morning.'

  'You go tonight, my boy I am!'

  'But aren't you still on duty?'

  'Duty be damned, Kenyon. I've slogged a few of these blokes and I'll slog a few more before I've done; but you know my mother is a cripple, and she's the only thing in the world that matters two hoots to me. My first duty is to see her safe out of it then I'll come back to the other if I can take care of yourself, old scout. So long!'

  As the Bentley roared away Veronica pulled up in her two seater. Kenyon hurried over to her. 'Where the deuce have you been all the afternoon?'

  'With Klinkie Forster; the poor sweet's due to shed an infant this week. Ghastly for her, isn't it?'

  'Yes, filthy luck. I'd forgotten about that,
and you're paying for the nursing home, aren't you?'

  Veronica went scarlet. 'How the hell did you know that?'

  'Oh, her husband told me, ten days ago. The poor devil was almost weeping with gratitude, and I know they've been down and out for months. I don't wonder you're always broke!'

  'Well, that's my affair,' she snapped, angry and embarrassed as she fumbled with the door of the car.

  'Steady on,' he soothed her. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I meant to offer you a bit myself towards it, only I've been so busy I forgot; but don't get out. I want you to run down to Gloucester Road and pick up Ann.'

  'She's coming, then? I had no answer to my note.'

  'I think the post has gone groggy, like everything else; there's been no delivery yet today!'

  'She may not have meant to come, anyway?'

  'Perhaps not, but I simply must know what has happened to her, and if she is there I thought you could persuade her into coming back with you. I'll wait here in case she is already on her way.'

  'My dear! You have got it badly!'

  'Yes,' said Kenyon grimly, 'so badly that I've made up my mind to take her with us.'

  'What! To Banners?'

  'That's the idea; why not?'

  Veronica exclaimed, protested, and talked wildly of Juliana Augusta's possible reactions to his project, but finally agreed to assist her brother when he had fully outlined his plans.

  'But say she doesn't want to go with us; you can't keep her here all night against her will?' was her final protest.

  'Got to,' said Kenyon tersely. 'You get her for me if she's there and think up some idea to delay her departure once she's here till nine o'clock; I'll do the rest! Off you go!' A quarter of an hour later Rudd showed her up to the sitting room in Gloucester Road.

  Ann was there, and with her the Pomfrets who, apparently oblivious of the crisis which was shaking Britain, were busy addressing postcards to their friends asking them to get Pomfret's new book, The Storm of Souls, which was to be published next day.

  Veronica sailed into the room, her small neat head tilted in the air. 'Miss Croome?' her smile was almost bewildering, 'I do hope you don't mind my coming in, but I've been simply dying to meet you because I've heard so much about you from my brother Kenyon. I spent the afternoon with friends in Queen's Gate, and as you were so near I thought I could give you a lift back?'

  Ann was taken completely by surprise. She had decided not to go to Grosvenor Square but to write a letter of apology. 'How… how very nice of you,' was all she could murmur, a little breathlessly.

  'Poor child,' thought Veronica. 'It must be horrid for her to have me butting in like this with these squalid people about.' Mentally she wiped the Pomfret’s from her consciousness like flies from a window pane: the girl hadn't meant to come, of course a stubborn little piece, but damned good looking, all the same. Yes, Kenyon knew his oats all right, and like it or not she was coming back Veronica meant to see to that.

  'Ye Gods! what marvellous eyes you've got,' she exclaimed. 'I don't wonder Kenyon is crazy about you. Am I being terribly personal? I've got into such an awful habit of saying just what I think; do you mind if I smoke?' She whipped out an onyx cigarette case and dropped on to the settee.

  'Oh, no; please do.' Ann's eyes showed interest and a flicker of amusement.

  'Isn't that fun?' Veronica rattled on, thrusting the case at Ann.' 'Carter, my dear Miss Croome, I mean an American gave it to me; sheer blackmail, of course, but I simply had to have it.'

  'I think it's lovely, and so are you!' Ann riposted neatly, as she returned the cigarette case.

  Veronica launched swiftly into a series of incidents which had occurred to her during the day. Things always happened to Veronica that never happened to anyone else absurd, trivial things, but in the quick dramatic telling, punctuated by bursts of infectious laughter, they gained the status of incredibly humorous adventures.

  It was impossible to be mulish in the face of Kenyon's magnetic sister if she laid herself out to charm, so when, after ten minutes' incessant talking, she exclaimed: 'My dear! It's a quarter to seven we must positively fly!' Ann found herself standing up too.

  She had been laughing uproariously only a second before and the attack had been so sudden, so swift. How could she possibly say now that she did not wish to go, and begin an argument with the listening Pomfret’s in the background; two minutes later she was sitting beside Veronica in the car.

  The stream of chatter flowed on. Veronica had no intention of allowing her captive time to think of belated excuses to make on the doorstep. The body of Ann Croome must be handed over to Kenyon in good order and good humour. Veronica took a pride in her achievements.

  'Looks like a doss house, doesn't it?' she cried, as they entered the wide hall now stripped of its old masters. 'But we shall all be murdered in our beds, I expect, so what does it matter?'

  Kenyon came down the stairs to meet them. 'Well, Ann,' he said, 'it is nice of you to come with all this upset going on.'

  'I didn't mean to,' she said frankly, 'but I found your sister irresistible!'

  They went up to Veronica's sitting room. Kenyon shook the drinks while his sister talked, and an hour sped by unnoticed, but Veronica had her all seeing eye on the clock. The guest must not be allowed to say that she was going!

  Suddenly, as though struck by a lightning thought, she cried: 'What a bore, with the servants gone we can't possibly ask you to stay for dinner; but wait, I've got it! We'll picnic up here on what's left in the larder; come on, let's beat it to the basement!'

  'Splendid!' Kenyon laughed. 'Ann shall cook us an omelette; she told me the other night that she could!'

  What could Ann do against the enticements of these charming people? Only follow Veronica through the door that Kenyon smilingly held open.

  Half an hour later she was seated on a table in the vast, empty kitchen, where in the spacious days of lavish entertaining twenty men and women had laboured at the preparation of ball suppers. She was gobbling a large slab of omelette which she had helped to make, and laughingly protesting that she was quite unfitted to give Veronica the cooking lessons which were for the moment that tempestuous lady's most earnest desire.

  They opened champagne and drank it out of tea cups, scorning to call Moggs or Carter to their aid when they could not find the glasses; then carrying more bottles they proceeded upstairs into the silence of the great empty house.

  Back in her sitting room, Veronica, with Ann beside her, curled up on the floor and began to tell the cards. There were journeyings across water, meetings in tall buildings, love, treachery, imprisonment, and in Ann's cards death!

  When the last round was finished Veronica drew the pack quickly together with her slim fingers. 'Darlings, I must leave you,' she declared. 'Lucy is a perfect saint, but she simply cannot pack; don't go, Ann, please; give me a quarter of an hour and I'll be back.'

  Alone with Ann, Kenyon wasted no time in fencing: He stooped to take her hand but she withdrew it quickly. 'Ann!' he protested, 'you're still cross with me?'

  'Not cross but I only came this evening so as not to be rude to your sister. It doesn't alter anything I said in my letter.'

  'What nonsense! I'm terribly sorry I didn't tell you my full name in the first place; but what difference does it make? I haven't got three legs, or a tail, or anything!'

  'I see,' a glint of humour lurked in Ann's tawny eyes, 'you're just like any other man, and you're in love with me. Is that it?'

  'I am.'

  'A lot?'

  'Yes, Ann, a lot.'

  'Do you realise the logical conclusion then?'

  'N… no,' he hesitated, fearing some kind of trap.

  'In such circumstances it is usual for the man to want to marry the girl: do you want to marry me?'

  The question was so direct that Kenyon hesitated again, floundered, and was lost. 'Marry?… well, you know… I hadn't meant to… yet!'

  'Please don't go on, my dear.' Ann was smili
ng now. 'Of course you don't; I didn't expect for one moment that you would. I'm not suitable and I know it. If you were really going to get a Civil Service job at £400 a year I might be but you're not!'

  'But Ann '

  'What?'

  'Well, I do care about you terribly.'

  'Perhaps.' She stood up. 'I like you too; you must know that.'

  'Then can't we carry on?'

  'Listen,' she said slowly, fingering the lapel of his coat, 'it's this way. I might live with a man who wanted to marry me and couldn't if I liked him enough; but I would never live with a man who did not love me enough to want to marry me. I wonder if you understand. Anyhow, I'm going home now. Say good bye to that nice sister of yours for me, and tell her I liked her an awful lot and I have enjoyed this evening.'

  'I understand, Ann; but you're not going home; I am not going to let you!'

  'What do you mean?' Her eyes grew hard, and the heavy lids came down, half concealing them.

  'Just this. I warned you to stay in Orford, but you wouldn't listen. It may be too late now for you to reach there safely on your own. I'm going down to the country tomorrow and I mean to take you with me.'

  'No, Kenyon. I can look after myself; I'm not going with you.'

  'You are.' His eyes were hard though he was smiling.

  'I've had a room prepared for you and you'll sleep here tonight.'

  'No!' she snapped, filled with sudden fury by his dictatorial manner.

  'You will,' he repeated firmly.

  'No!'

  'I say yes! I've put you next to Veronica, so you will be quite comfortable and quite safe.'

  'No! You've got no right to keep me here against my will!'

  'Nobody will have any rights in a few days' time. I'm anticipating the movement, that's all!'

  'No! You'll let me go now-​now! D'you hear!'

  His only reply was to take her firmly by the arms. For a second she tried to wrench herself away but realised immediately how powerless she was against his strength.

  He let her go for a moment and pulled open the door. 'Come on; do you walk or do I carry you?'

  Beneath the lowered lids her eyes were blazing with anger as with sullen tight shut mouth she walked slowly past him. He piloted her down the corridor and pushed her gently into a spacious bedroom.

 

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