Dennis Wheatley - Sixty Days to Live

Sam had travelled in many parts of the world, whereas Lavina had never been outside England, except to Paris and for brief holidays to a few of the most famous Continental bathing beaches since she had become a film star. On the other hand, her education was very much better than Sam's. Gervaise had seen to that and, without ever having consciously studied or been forced to sit for wearisome examinations, she had accumulated a great store of miscellaneous information on history, literature, religions and art. Sam knew the political game, the inside of all the major moves that had governed international relations in the last ten years, and he had met innumerable famous people. But he was a townsman, born and bred. Lavina knew nothing of such things and few people outside the film world, but she had lived nearly all her life in the country and was at home with all the wild life they met when strolling across the wooded mountainsides; the habits of birds and beasts, the names of flowers and trees were nearly all familiar to her. In consequence, as both were good listeners, they had an immense amount to talk about.

It was not until the morning of June 14th that the proprietor of the little inn where they were staying brought a copy of the previous day's paper over to Sam just as he and Lavina were sitting down to their vermouth et syphon before lunch.

With a stubby forefinger the Frenchman pointed to a four-column article on comets and their peculiarities. He did not seem the least perturbed at the announcement that a large one would shortly become visible and in ten days' time pass comparatively near the earth; but pointed out the article as a matter that might be of interest. It was one of the many little courtesies by which he sought to retain the goodwill of his wealthy English visitors.

Sam thanked him and, as he moved away, looked across at Lavina. 'So it's out at last. I'm rather surprised that Hemmingway didn't say anything about it in his letter that came in this morning. He must have known they intended to break it to the masses when he was writing.'

Lavina puffed lazily on her cigarette. 'He's hardly said anything in any of his letters except that business has been going as well as could be expected and that they've been having good weather in England. I think it's rather decent of him to have taken everything on his own shoulders and not worried you with a single thing while we've been on our honeymoon.'

'Yes. That's like him. He's a good boy and not afraid to take responsibility.'

A faint smile twitched the corners of Lavina's beautifully modelled little mouth. Hemmingway was seven years older than herself so it had never occurred to her to regard him as a boy, but Sam, of course, was some sixteen years older than his gifted secretary. She bent over her husband's shoulder to read the heavy black print of the French article on the comet and, after a moment, she remarked:

'They don't tell the whole story. There's no suggestion that the comet may hit us or anything of that kind.'

'No, they're breaking it gently, I suppose. Or maybe your Uncle Oliver wasn't right, after all.'

'I doubt that. Anyhow, we shall know if he's still of the same opinion in three days' time.' She tapped the date on the paper with an unvarnished finger-nail of moderate length. After a few days in the wilds she had taken a quarter of an inch off the long, pointed, decorative claws of which she had been rather proud, and had ceased to enamel them.

'This is yesterday's paper,' he said.

'Why, so it is! Then we'll be leaving here tomorrow.'

It came as quite a shock to realise that their honeymoon was almost over. Days and dates had meant nothing to them in the last five weeks, but they had all their reservations booked for the homeward journey on which they were due to start next day.

When they arrived in Biarritz to catch the Paris express they found everyone talking of the comet. The papers were now full of it, but there was still no indication in any of them that there might be cause for alarm.

On the evening of June 16th they were back in London. Hemmingway was at the station to meet them and he dined with them in St. James's Square that night. They already knew from a guarded statement in one of his first letters that Fink-Drummond's disappearance had been accounted for satisfactorily, but he had plenty of other things to tell them about, including the construction of the Ark.

Sam at once approved everything he had done but, somewhat to Lavina's disappointment, instead of going with her round the rooms which had been redecorated according to her wishes in her absence, the two men went into a huddle over business after dinner.

They discussed finance and the international situation exhaustively, yet it seemed that there was nothing further that could be done. Hemmingway had already taken every possible precaution to protect Sam's interests. He had sold many blocks of shares at good prices before the decline set in and bought again at lower levels for delivery on June the 30th. If the world came to an end on June 24th, the prices of stocks would no longer matter to anyone, but, if it didn't, Sam would reap enormous profits.

Nevertheless, many of the directors in Sam's companies had been pressing Hemmingway to recall him for well over a fortnight and, although Hemmingway had steadfastly refused, it was clear that Sam would have to meet them at the earliest possible moment.

For the next two days he was kept frantically busy with such appointments. The shares of his own companies were falling with the rest, and his co-directors wrangled with him interminably at hastily called board meetings as to whether they should support their own shares with their private means or let them slump to any level.

It was not until the evening of the 18th, the second after their return, that Sam could find time to go down to Stapleton Court, and Lavina, who had been impatiently waiting for him to do so, accompanied him filled with curiosity about the Ark.

When they reached Stapleton, just after seven, they were amazed to see the upheaval that had taken place along the lake-shore in front of the house. The lawn was cut to ribbons; cranes, sheds, stacks of concrete blocks, steel girders and other building materials littered the place for two hundred yards round the flat surface on the lake-edge where a huge steel ball, over thirty feet in height, now stood.

Gervaise and the rest came out to greet the visitors at the entrance of the house, and both parties were unaffectedly glad to see each other. Margery held out her hand to Sam but he gave her a rather boisterous brotherly kiss, as he wanted to show her that he had not allowed any memory of her strange outburst on his wedding-day to rankle.

Meanwhile, at the sight of Lavina, Derek had caught his breath.

'What is it?' She laughed, as she saw him staring at her. 'Has marriage changed me so much that you don't recognise me any more?'

'No—oh, no!' he muttered hastily. 'But you're looking twice as beautiful.'

Lavina accepted the compliment and knew the reason for it.

Her nails were enamelled bright red again and her golden hair was done with her usual meticulous care; but her eyebrows were now brown instead of black, she had given up using kohl on her eyelids, her lashes were suitably darkened but not heavy with mascara and she was wearing only a moderate amount of lipstick.

The change was due to Sam's gentle insistence, that being so blessed with natural loveliness, her slavish adherence to the heavy make-up favoured by less fortunate women only detracted from her looks. She had not really believed that, but to please him she had cut it down while she was abroad; and now, Derek's bewildered admiration at last convinced her Sam had been right.

As Hemmingway had remained in London, Derek took Sam and Lavina over the Ark and explained its workings to them. Its interior mechanism was not yet completed, but he said that the engineers hoped to launch it on the 20th.