There was no drunkenness or fatalistic jollification among the crowds now. Every public-house in London had been closed by order and the police, who had been issued with revolvers, had received instructions to shoot looters if they made any attempt to resist arrest.
Whitehall was open again but troops were mounting guard over all Government buildings and the entrance to Downing Street was closed by a wooden barricade; yet the lights were burning in nearly all the windows showing that the harassed authorities were still hard at work controlling the evacuation.
Hemmingway turned left towards Scotland Yard and its annexe, Cannon Row police station, but here he found the pavements blocked by a solid jam of people. Only the roadway was being kept open for traffic by the police.
He saw at once that he was not the only person who had come to inquire for friends and relatives. There were several hundred in the two queues before him, all of whom, anxiously silent or quietly sobbing, were in search of missing dear ones.
If he took his place in the rear of one of the queues it was clear that he would have to wait hours before he got anywhere near the police station; so, abandoning that idea, he walked round to the Embankment entrance of Scotland Yard. There was a small queue there, too, but in a few moments he had reached the police sergeant who was dealing with inquiries.
Knowing that Sam’s name would carry more weight than his own and gambling on the fact that Sam was not known to the sergeant, he announced boldly:
‘I’m Sir Samuel Curry. Would you be good enough to ask Colonel Hodgson if he could possibly spare me a moment?’
The sergeant looked dubious. ‘The Assistant Commissioner’s frantically busy, sir. I doubt if he can spare time to see anyone.’
‘I know. He must be having a gruelling time just now. But, as I’m a personal friend, I think he’ll see me if you send my name up.’
‘Well, I’ll do that, sir, although we don’t like to bother him more than we have to. Just wait here a moment.’ The sergeant spoke to a telephonist in a small lodge nearby, who put the call through.
An answer came back almost at once and the sergeant reported: ‘The Assistant Commissioner says he’ll see you, sir, but he may have to keep you waiting a little time. The constable, here, will take you through.’
Suppressing a sigh of relief, Hemmingway passed inside and was led by the constable down a succession of long stone corridors to a bare-looking waiting room. He sat there for some twenty minutes and was then summoned to the Assistant Commissioner’s office.
Colonel Hodgson was a shrewd-eyed, wiry-haired man nearing fifty. He looked very tired as he had been working almost continuously for the last week, snatching only an hour or two’s sleep in the building when nature absolutely demanded it, but his manner was still calm and cheerful.
‘Hullo! You’re not Sam Curry,’ he said at once, as Hemmingway entered the room.
‘No, sir,’ Hemmingway apologised, ‘but I’m his confidential secretary and I’m acting for him. I know you’re a friend of his so I used his name to get in.’
The Colonel nodded. ‘All right. Since you’re in, let’s hear what’s brought you. But for God’s sake don’t waste my time on trifles.’
As briefly as he possibly could Hemmingway gave particulars of Lavina’s disappearance.
‘I’m sorry Sam’s young wife’s got herself into trouble,’ the Colonel said, when Hemmingway had finished. ‘She deserves a lesson, though, for going out at a time like this. Respectable people ought to set an example and aid us rather than hinder us in this hellish mess we’ve got to handle.’
‘I know that, sir. But what’s done is done, and it’s up to me to find her.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you much there. Thousands of women have been brought in; far too many for us to keep any sort of register.’
‘I see. But surely you can tell me where your people would have taken her?’
‘She’ll be in one of the encampments for women. As she was arrested at the Dorchester, the one in the grounds of Buckingham Palace is the most likely.’
‘Then I’ll try that first, and the others afterwards if necessary. Perhaps your secretary could give me a list of them?’
‘Yes. There are seven altogether, but it’ll be like looking for a needle in a haystack and, even if you do find out where she is, you won’t be able to do anything about it.’
‘I want to take her to the country and I imagine, sir, that you’d have no objection to giving me an order for her release?’
A telephone buzzer sounded on the Colonel’s desk. He picked up the instrument and was talking down it for the next few moments. When he had done, he turned back to Hemmingway.
‘I’m sorry, but that’s impossible. Of course, the great majority of the people who have been rounded-up are only drunks; but hundreds of lives have been lost in these riots, property’s been destroyed and goods stolen. If the comet doesn’t hit us, every one of the prisoners will have to go before a tribunal; some will be charged with manslaughter, others with looting, and so on. But as we have no particulars of what any individual will be charged with yet, it’s quite out of the question for us to release anyone.’
‘But Lady Curry’s not a thief or a murderer.’
‘Of course not, my dear fellow, but she must have been arrested for something; even if it was only participating in a riotous assembly. And, until she’s been charged and either proved innocent or guilty, we’ve got to hold her. You must see for yourself that we can’t make exceptions.’
‘But, Colonel, her cousin was killed before her eyes last night. She’s probably half off her head with worry.’
‘I’m sorry. But, if she’s a hospital case, she’ll receive medical attention. Anyway, she’ll fare no worse than thousands of others and they’re all being fed and looked after. They’ll be as safe in the open parks as anywhere. That’s why we put them there. They’d be no better off in the open country. Now, I really can’t give you any more time.’
Hemmingway saw that it was useless to argue further so he thanked the Colonel for seeing him, obtained from his secretary a list of the women’s encampments in the London area, and left the building.
The encampments were scattered far and wide. One was on Wimbledon Common, another in Greenwich Park, a third on Hampstead Heath. The garden of Buckingham Palace was the only one anywhere near West Central London and, as Derek had been taken straight to Hyde Park, it seemed almost certain that Lavina would have been taken to the Palace grounds rather than to one of the more distant camps.
It was getting on for one in the morning as Hemmingway set out at a good pace across Parliament Square and along Birdcage Walk. Outside the Palace, where great multitudes had congregated on the previous nights, there was now only a small crowd of about fifty people. They stood in a ragged line, staring through the railings at the scene that was proceeding in the court yard.
There, long rows of closed vans were drawn up, numbering, Hemmingway estimated at a rough guess, well over a couple of hundred. Khaki-clad troops were moving about among them and the driver on the box of each was a soldier.
As Hemmingway halted outside one of the main gates it was thrown open and six of the vans drove out. Almost immediately afterwards another fleet came round the corner, from Constitution Hill, and drove in at the other entrance.
‘What’s going on?’ Hemmingway asked one of the onlookers.
‘They’re evacuating the women,’ replied the man, laconically.
‘Hell!’ Hemmingway exclaimed. ‘D’you know where they’re taking them?’
‘Not for certain. They do say, though, that they’re loading them on to ships down at the Docks because they reckon they’ll be safer out at sea. Why? Have you lost your wife or something?’
‘Yes,’ Hemmingway agreed, to avoid entering into long explanations.
‘Thanks very much,’ he added, and made off quickly.
This new move on the part of the authorities further complicated his problem. Evidently, the
decision to evacuate the women prisoners had been made during the last hour or two and Colonel Hodgson, having been busy upon other matters, either knew nothing about it or had forgotten to mention it. The odds were all in favour of Lavina’s having been taken to the Palace garden after her arrest; but was she still there or was she in one of the vans on her way to an unknown destination?
If the latter was the case, Hemmingway knew that his chance of finding her would be rendered almost impossibly slender. His one hope now lay in the fact that the Colonel had said there were several thousand women in the garden. It would take some hours to evacuate them all and, if he could get into the garden at once, there was just a possibility that he might discover her before she was carted off in one of the vans.
The next thing was to get into the gardens. He knew that he stood no chance at all of penetrating to them by the front way, through the Palace Courtyards. The sentries would never let him pass without credentials. He had got to make his way in, therefore, by some illegal method.
The grounds of the Palace formed a rough triangle, with the Palace itself making a blunt apex at the eastern end. The southeastern side of the great walled enclosure was occupied by the Royal Stables, which were certain to be policed, so there was little prospect of getting in there. The north-eastern side ran parallel with Constitution Hill, up to Hyde Park Corner. A narrow belt of railed-off park, only a few feet deep, lay between the roadway and the wall of the Palace garden. As the belt had trees in it, that would certainly provide the best cover for any attempt to scale the wall but, for that very reason, it was almost certain that a chain of police would be keeping every foot of it under observation.
The third side of the triangle ran north and south the whole length of Grosvenor Place, and here the garden wall abutted on the pavement. There was no cover of any kind for anyone who tried to climb it, but the fact that the whole length of the wall was exposed to view rendered it much less likely to be heavily guarded; so Hemmingway decided to make his attempt from that direction.
Turning right, he set off up Constitution Hill and he saw at once that his surmise, that this side of the Palace grounds would be well watched, had good foundations. He encountered six policemen between the Palace and Hyde Park Corner and he doubted if a cat could have got over the railing—let alone the wall—without having been spotted by one of them.
Rounding the corner of the grounds he proceeded south, down Grosvenor Place, which formed the longest side of the triangle. A shabby woman shambled past him, then the broad pavement stretched away empty as far as he could see, except for two small figures in the far distance.
As he walked on he saw that they were two policemen who were advancing towards him. A long line of lorries, coming up from the direction of Victoria, rumbled past just as he came level with the officers. They took no notice of him and he covered another hundred yards which brought him about half-way down the western base of the triangle with the Palace almost opposite to him at its apex.
Pausing, he looked round and saw that the policemen were walking slowly on. He guessed that when they reached Hyde Park Corner they would turn and come south again; so he had no time to lose. The road was now empty of traffic and he could not see any casual pedestrians on its far side. The street lamps were burning only at half-pressure and every twenty yards the trees growing out of the pavement, being in full leaf threw a good patch of shadow.
Halting beneath one of them, he rapidly unwound his length of clothes-line, with the wooden struts knotted across it, from beneath his coat. At one end he formed a loop; then he ran softly forward to the wall.
If it had been designed for the special purpose of helping unauthorised persons to get over it easily it could not have been better planned. True, it was some twelve feet in height but, instead of having broken-glass on its top, it had a long, iron rail running a foot above it from which spikes protruded in all directions. Originally, perhaps, the spikes had been intended to revolve so that no weight could be attached to them, but many years of rust and coats of paint had now made them immovable.
At the second cast the loop at the end of Hemmingway’s line caught over one of the strong, iron spikes. Blessing himself for his forethought in having brought this rough scaling ladder he grabbed at the pieces of firewood nearest above his head and swarmed up to it.
Just as he gained the top of the wall and was negotiating the iron rail to which the spikes were attached the policemen reached the end of their beat, turned, and saw him.
‘Hi, there!’ they shouted in unison. The shrill blast of whistles shattered the silence of the night and they both began to run; but Hemmingway, now perched on the iron rail, unhurriedly drew up his rope-ladder.
Panting and flushed, the policemen arrived below him. ‘Come down off there,’ bellowed one.
Hemmingway laughed in gentle mockery.
‘Come up and get me,’ he replied, knowing perfectly well that he had them on toast. They could not reach him except by one of them clambering on the other’s shoulder and, if they attempted that, he could slip down on the far side of the wall; while, as there was no gate into the garden for at least five hundred yards in either direction, by the time they got inside he could easily have lost himself among the trees.
‘Come down at once!’ shouted one of the policemen angrily.
Hemmingway shook his head. ‘Please don’t excite yourselves. I’ve no intention of trying to assassinate the King or rob the Palace. I’m just looking for a young woman who’s been brought into the encampment. I think, for your own sakes, your wisest plan would be not even to report that you’ve seen me.’
Having let his rope down on the garden side of the wall, he waved the police a cheerful good night and lowered himself to the ground. A flick of the wrist detached the rope from the spike by which it hung and he re-coiled it round his body in case it might come in useful again later on. He then buttoned his double-breasted jacket about him and set off at a brisk pace through the night-enshrouded garden.
On the west side of the grounds there were many trees, so he had to flash his torch here and there to see where he was going, but he found a path and soon afterwards came upon two of the women prisoners.
They were lying side by side under a tree, each wrapped up in a blanket and with their heads upon small, hard pillows such as those which are issued to troops in barracks.
A beam of the torch showed that neither of them was Lavina, so Hemmingway passed on; encountering more and more of these sleeping figures as he advanced.
Here and there couples or groups, still wakeful, sat talking together in low voices and, as his torch picked them out, a few of them called to him; asking the time or just cursing him for flashing his light in their eyes. But, assuming that he was one of the detectives in charge of them, they took no further notice when he did not reply.
Owing to the darkness it was impossible for him to estimate how many women were being kept captive behind the high walls of the huge, rambling garden which covered an area as big as St. James’s Park; but the farther he penetrated, the more numerous the women became. As he flashed his light from side to side on each group in turn his progress was slow, but he gradually made his way round the north side of the lake and came out on to the open slope which runs down to it from the terrace at the back of the Palace. Many of the windows at the back of the Palace were still lit and the light they gave was sufficient to disclose a sight that made his heart sink with dismay. The whole great lawn was covered for as far as he could see with figures rolled in blankets.
In the distance, towards its southern end, he saw that there was considerable movement and, picking his way forward among the sleeping forms, he advanced up the slope; still flashing his torch from side to side in the hope of spotting Lavina as he went.
He found that the movement was concentrated round two large marquees where tea and food were being served to any of the women who wanted it in the groups that were being quietly rounded-up for evacuation by a number of Tommies
.
Batches of about a hundred prisoners were being roused at a time, passed through the marquees and thence into the southeastern courtyard of the Palace where Hemmingway could just discern some vans.
No one took any notice of him as, in the constantly shifting throng, there were a number of plain-clothes men among the uniformed police, troops and herds of women. Pocketing his torch, he slipped inside one of the marquees, knowing that the light in it would enable him to see more women at one time than he could by flashing his torch about on the people outside.
Behind a long trestle-table a number of well-dressed but tired-looking women were handing out cups of tea, bread and butter and buns to the dejected-looking captives before them. Some of them were bandaged for wounds they had received; the faces of others were tear-stained and drawn with anxiety. All of them were dirty and dishevelled.
In vain Hemmingway searched for Lavina’s golden head. She was not among them. Leaving that marquee, he crossed the intervening space and entered the other. The scene was the same; a low murmur of voices, tear-stained and dejected faces. But Lavina was not there either.
It was just as he was going out that the face of one of the ladies behind a tea-urn struck him as familiar, and a second later he realised that it was the Queen. Of course, he thought, since she and the King are remaining in London, she would be here. How tired she’s looking, but how splendid.
As he left the tent the batch of captives in it were quietly moved on towards the courtyard. He turned in the other direction and began to flash his torch again among the new groups of women who were being roused for their journey. Nobody questioned him, as many of the officers and police were also using flash-lamps. Now and again his light flickered on golden hair, raising his hopes only to disappoint him, as haggard face after haggard face came for a second into the torch’s beam.
Sixty Days to Live Page 16
