Black August (48 page)

Shoulder pressed to shoulder, stretching out of sight, they packed the Mall to Admiralty Arch.

Occasionally there were bursts of cheering, and now and again sections of the crowd lifted up their voices in a patriotic song. Women hung fainting in the tight-wedged mass, yet the pressure was so great that, while it prevented them from being carried away, it also saved them from being trampled underfoot.

The troops were bandying jests with the people near the lorry who clung to the sides of and occupied the bonnet. Gregory alone remained seated, hunched in a corner now at the back. Veronica left the others who were crowded near the hood and slipped down beside him.

Fine party, isn't it?' he said, smiling at her in the darkness.

‘You poor darling; it can't be much fun for you.'

‘Oh, I don't know, it's good to think you're all safe out of it anyhow and that the country is going to be all right.'

‘But I'm frightened for you, Gregory.'

‘That's nice of you, my dear.'

‘Listen. Herbert, my father, went to Windsor at the outset so he must be all right, and he's got tremendous pull in a quiet way. He's a great personal friend of the Monarch, who seems to have turned the corner now, and we can count on him to do everything in his power to get you off.'

‘No,' he shook his head, ‘intercession would only mean imprisonment, and I couldn't bear that.'

She gripped his hand suddenly and, leaning forward, whispered rapidly in French.

He gave a low delighted chuckle. ‘You're a great woman, Veronica, but even if you did cling on to Hay-Symple, and Silas and Kenyon joined in, I could never get away. Look at the crowd—it's impossible to run on people's heads!'

‘But my dear, we can't just let you die like this!'

‘Oh, they'll out me I haven't a doubt, and I suppose I deserve it looked at from their point of view. Still—I'm not unhappy; “I've taken my fun where I've found it and now I must pay for my fun.” Kipling wrote that, didn't he?'

A renewed burst of cheering came from afar, but this time
it did not slacken. Borne on the night wind it grew and grew, rushing in a vast wave of sound from Buckingham Palace Road to the gathered thousands before the Palace.

Veronica scrambled to her feet and saw that every face was upturned to the sky. The bright pointed fingers of the searchlights had flashed out while she was talking to Gregory and, caught in their glare, a dozen aeroplanes hovered overhead. A second dozen followed and a third; then came the wingless racing helicopter of the Prince. The searchlights concentrated upon it, shutting out the following squadrons of fast planes, as it sank easily and gracefully until lost to view, descending to its landing ground behind the Palace.

‘Isn't this just grand, honey?' Silas flung his arm round Veronica's shoulder. ‘Isn't it just too marvellous for anything.'

‘Yes, honey,' she agreed, ‘it is,' and, side by side, they stood staring at the Palace. There was nothing to be seen but the myriad upturned faces, yet the thunderous cheering continued unabated for the Prince must now be somewhere in the building; then there was a sudden lull in the roaring of the crowd. For a moment or two they swayed and muttered; then an arc lamp flared into life, throwing the first floor balcony into a dazzling patch of light.

A solitary slim figure stepped out upon it. He wore no uniform, but, with the simplicity beloved by the English people, a suit of well-worn plus fours. Curiously informal in his gestures he stood there bowing and smiling a pleasant friendly smile as he acknowledged the deafening plaudits of the crowd.

The mighty roar of sustained cheering seemed unending as it issued from those thousands of throats, but gradually it took a lower note and, merging into strange harmony, welled up again with renewed volume upon the paean of the National Anthem.

As the last bars reverberated against the walls of the Palace, Ann squeezed Kenyon's arm and pointed: ‘Look, darling,' she cried, ‘do you remember that terrible prophet—his month has run!'

Then Kenyon, looking upward saw, bright and clear above the Palace, the slender sickle of the September moon: ‘My blessing,' he drew her closer, ‘we've come through Black August so, God willing, we'll have many moons together now.'

The Prince was holding up his hand for silence and, gradually, the cheering subsided; then he spoke, his voice coming faint but clear from the loud speakers.

‘I thank you from my heart for this great demonstration of loyal feeling. With your support I now have every confidence in the complete recovery of our country, and it is my joyous duty to announce the formal restoration of law and order.

From tonight the ancient laws for the protection of life and property will be administered with the most severity against all breaches of the peace; but, since many thousands have been led to criminal actions contrary to their nature by the stream of late events, I proclaim a general amnesty and free pardon for all such, in the heartfelt hope that they may become once more loyal and responsible citizens.'

‘Gregory!' Ann cried, pulling herself away from Kenyon.

‘You're free—free!' shrieked Veronica.

‘How perfectly splendid.' Kenyon hastened over to the prisoners.

‘Yes,' Silas's cherubic smile spread over his broad face, ‘I felt certain he'd get out of this jam somehow.'

But Gregory was gazing at his faithful henchmen and familiar; 'Im thundering glad,' he said huskily, ‘the thought of what they might do to you is the only thing that's really been giving me hell on this journey.'

‘
Old soldiers never die
, sir,' said Mr. Rudd.

The Prince had gone in but the thunderous cheering brought him out again. Once more he returned—bowing, smiling, waving a cheerful hand, yet they simply would not let him go. Five times more he appeared upon the balcony before he finally withdrew.

The great concourse of people would not disperse. Gaunt hungry—knowing full well that tomorrow, and for many weeks to come, they would have to face life and all their individual difficulties, upon a meagre ration; perhaps to reconstruct their whole manner of living, or turn their steps from the known ways of the city to strange territories across the seas, they still remained for a new hope was born that night in England. The Prince Regent, idol of a still great and virile nation, would lead them yet into a new prosperity.

Their voices merged again into a solemn wave of sound,
unrecognisable at first, yet taken up with the speed of wildfire, until the words of the famous hymn rang out clear and strong:

‘Land of hope and glory—Mother of the free
How shall we extol thee—who are born of thee
Wider still and wider—shall thy bounds be set
God, who made thee mighty—make thee mightier yet

God—who—made—thee—mighty
MAKE—THEE—MIGHTIER—YET.'

DENNIS WHEATLEY

Dennis Wheatley (1897 – 1977) was an English author whose prolific output of stylish thrillers and occult novels made him one of the world's best-selling writers from the 1930s through the 1960s.

Wheatley was the eldest of three children, and his parents were the owners of Wheatley & Son of Mayfair, a wine business. He admitted to little aptitude for schooling, and was expelled from Dulwich College, London. In 1919 he assumed management of the family wine business but in 1931, after a decline in business due to the depression, he began writing.

His first book,
The Forbidden Territory
, became a bestseller overnight, and since then his books have sold over 50 million copies worldwide. During the 1960s, his publishers sold one million copies of Wheatley titles per year, and his Gregory Sallust series was one of the main inspirations for Ian Fleming's James Bond stories.

During the Second World War, Wheatley was a member of the London Controlling Section, which secretly coordinated strategic military deception and cover plans. His literary talents gained him employment with planning staffs for the War Office. He wrote numerous papers for the War Office, including suggestions for dealing with a German invasion of Britain.

Dennis Wheatley died on 11th November 1977. During his life he wrote over 70 books and sold over 50 million copies.

Discover books by Dennis Wheatley published by Bloomsbury Reader at
www.bloomsbury.com/DennisWheatley

Duke de Richleau
The Forbidden Territory
The Devil Rides Out
The Golden Spaniard
Three Inquisitive People
Strange Conflict
Codeword Golden Fleece
The Second Seal
The Prisoner in the Mask
Vendetta in Spain
Dangerous Inheritance
Gateway to Hell

Gregory Sallust
Black August
Contraband
The Scarlet Impostor
Faked Passports
The Black Baroness
V for Vengeance
Come into My Parlour
The Island Where Time Stands Still
Traitors' Gate
They Used Dark Forces
The White Witch of the South Seas

Julian Day
The Quest of Julian Day
The Sword of Fate
Bill for the Use of a Body

Roger Brook
The Launching of Roger Brook
The Shadow of Tyburn Tree
The Rising Storm
The Man Who Killed the King
The Dark Secret of Josephine
The Rape of Venice
The Sultan's Daughter
The Wanton Princess
Evil in a Mask
The Ravishing of Lady Mary Ware
The Irish Witch
Desperate Measures

Molly Fountain
To the Devil a Daughter
The Satanist

Lost World
They Found Atlantis
Uncharted Seas
The Man Who Missed the War

Espionage
Mayhem in Greece
The Eunuch of Stamboul
The Fabulous Valley
The Strange Story of Linda Lee
Such Power is Dangerous
The Secret War

Science Fiction
Sixty Days to Live
Star of Ill-Omen

Black Magic
The Haunting of Toby Jugg
The KA of Gifford Hillary
Unholy Crusade

Short Stories
Mediterranean Nights
Gunmen, Gallants and Ghosts

This electronic edition published in 2013 by Bloomsbury Reader

Bloomsbury Reader is a division of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc, 50 Bedford Square,
London WC1B 3DP

First published in Great Britain in 1934, by Arrow Books Ltd

Copyright © 1934 Dennis Wheatley

All rights reserved
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publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication
may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

The moral right of the author is asserted.

eISBN: 9781448212750

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