Dennis Wheatley - Black August

'But why the panic, lovie?' inquired Veronica.

'Well, I knew there would be a rush, and it's just possible that they may not be able to stand it.'

Hay-​Symple swallowed the remainder of his second cocktail, 'I don't see why we're not on gold.'

'Gold has nothing to do with it. The loans made by the banks are always bigger than their deposits which is a queer situation anyway, but if they can't collect their loans they are stuck whatever they are paying out in. They need time to realise their stock just like any other business.'

'I should think it will put the lid on it if they do close down.'

Kenyon's reply was cut short by the reappearance of the footman, 'Mr. Hetherington, milady.'

'Hullo, Peter Hullo! Hullo!..,'

'Hullo, darling.;. Hullo, Kenyon…' the greetings flew round.

Hetherington smiled affectionately as he took Veronica's hand, 'Look here, my dear I've only come in to collect Fiona you must forgive me if I don't stay.'

'Why the hurry, Peter my love, someone chasing you with a writ?'

'Perish the thought! No, but I want to take her back to pack.' He turned and stooped over his wife's chair; 'I've just left your old man at the club, my sweetheart, and we both agree that it will be best if I motor you up to Scotland tonight.'

'My sainted aunt!' shrieked Veronica. 'Am I tight or have we all gone mad?'

Hetherington turned to her with a grave face. 'Honestly, my dear, we're in for trouble, and I mean to have Fiona out of it. Up in the Highlands among her own people on the West Coast she'll be safe whatever happens in the towns.'

'You stupid darling!' Fiona smiled at her large husband. but the protest was a caress and the sharp eyes of Lady Veronica Wensleadale, which never missed a trick, caught anxiety and adoration in the quick glance of the man as he bent over his wife.

Kenyon broke the momentary tension. 'Well, there's always time for a drink do you really know anything, Peter?'

'Yes. I had it over the private wire half an hour ago that the Reds have dynamited the Bradfield and Redmires dams. So Sheffield will be half under water by now.'

Veronica stared at him blankly. 'But, darling, Sheffield 's nowhere near the sea!'

'Of course not I'm talking about the reservoirs. When Dale Dyke burst in 1864, nearly three hundred people were drowned and half a million pounds' worth of property destroyed. This will be even worse with two dams gone and they've probably blown up the Ewden dam as well by now.'

'Oh, just think of those poor people,' Fiona sighed. 'What is going to happen to us all?'

'God knows,' said Hetherington grimly. 'Anyhow I mean to have you out of it. The result of the Admiralty decision looks like the last straw to me.'

'Need we talk about that?' Hay-​Symple stiffened slightly. His voice was sharp, and his eyes had suddenly gone cold.

'It's er common knowledge, isn't it?' Hetherington hesitated.

'What is it do tell us!' came the excited chorus.

The soldier shrugged. 'All right if it's got out already, may as well tell 'em. It's a pity though that these things can't be kept quiet. They only make people panic.'

'Come on, big boy spill the beans!' Veronica broke into the Americanese she sometimes affected as an alternative to her proficient Cockney.

'Well, you know all leave was cancelled last Saturday by the mobilisation telegram. It seems that quite a big proportion of the men failed to rejoin their ships. Fearing further trouble the Admiralty ordered the fleet out of its Home ports to rendezvous twenty miles south of St. Catherine's Point off the Isle of Wight. When they got there it was found that several of the capital ships were so seriously undermanned that, instead of sending them up to Scapa or some place where the malcontents could be dealt with, they ordered them home again; and now the sailors are deserting by the score.'

'By Jove!' Kenyon whistled. 'Then things are a jolly sight worse than we thought.'

'Well, anyway the Army is all right,' said Hay-​Symple grimly. 'But I must be getting back to barracks.'

As he stood up the footman reappeared. This time with a letter on a silver salver. He presented it to Kenyon and spoke in a low voice. 'A messenger boy has just delivered a large bunch of flowers, milord, and this note was with them. He said there was no reply.'

'Thanks, William excuse me, chaps.' Kenyon's face turned a deep shade of crimson as, angry and embarrassed, he turned away to open the letter. It was from Ann and read:

Dear Lord Fane,

It was not until this morning that I learned by accident of your identity. You chose to conceal it, no doubt on account of the fact that we move in such different circles and since that is the case, no possible good could come to either of us by continuing our acquaintance. I must apologise for the rather stupid remarks which I made about you in the train on the way to Ipswich, as I realise now that they were quite unjustified, but I am returning the flowers you sent me since I prefer to forget the whole episode as soon as possible.

Yours sincerely,

Ann Croome.

The others had been discussing the effects of the moratorium and Hetherington was confirming the rumours of an approaching bank crisis when Kenyon turned back to them.

'Who's been bunching you, Kenyon?' Hay-​Symple inquired with a grin, from the door.

'Oh er some flowers that I sent have come back went to the wrong address, I think,' he finished lamely.

Veronica suddenly hooted with laughter. 'Wrong address my foot! Just look at him, darlings do! The poor fish has been turned down by some wench. His face is as red as his hair!'

'Oh, shut up!' snapped Kenyon savagely. 'It's nothing of the sort.'

A general titter of amusement ran round the room, but after a moment it sank to a hushed silence. They had caught the voice of a newsboy calling in the square below. Faintly at first then louder, the harsh cry was wafted up to the strained ears of the listeners.

'Speshul edition! Speshul!… Speshul!… Decision by the Big Five… Banks Close Down!'

5

The Structure Cracks

The morning after she had returned Kenyon's flowers Ann put off getting up till the very last moment and lay thinking about him.

Perhaps she had been a fool to dash off that note. So many of her thoughts had centred round him since their first meeting, and now she had ended the affair by her own impulsive act. But he had deceived her about himself, and it rankled badly that he had allowed her to say those stupid things about him in the train. Still, she had apologised for that and Gregory was right of course; Kenyon would only regard her as a fit companion for a few evenings' amusement. No, she had taken a line, the right line, and she must stick to it even if he tried to open the affair again. She turned over on her tummy and nestled her dark head into the crook of her arm; then a sudden annoying thought struck her. She had forgotten again yesterday to give her ration card to Rudd. That meant no glass of milk for breakfast, and no butter for her bread. The wretched thing had been quite useless to her so far except for her light lunch in the City, although she had taken it out immediately on her return from Orford. If only she could get back to the sleepy peace of that little Suffolk village, but it was impossible unless she sacrificed her job. She had spoken of it the day before to her immediate superior, the fussy, pot bellied Mr. Crumper, and she could hear his sharp rejoinder now.

'Nonsense, Miss Croome nonsense. Business as usual will be our motto. The rioting will not affect us in the City you may be sure and we shall weather this crisis just as we did the one last winter.'

It would have been useless to argue with the man and, most of the other members of the firm seemed to share his view. Who would prove correct she wondered, Mr. Crumper and the office staff or Gregory Sallust and Kenyon Damn Kenyon! anyhow if the trouble blew over after all she would never get another job with things in their present state, so she must cling on to this one.