Sixty Days to Live

SIXTY DAYS TO LIVE

BY DENNIS WHEATLEY

for JOHN AND HILDA GARDNER

Because they are my oldest friends, because of the many happy hours I have spent with them and because, by a strange coincidence, John suggested that I should write a 'Comet' story one day last autumn when that very morning I had decided to write one myself.

An Offer of Marriage

Lavina Leigh paused for a second in the entrance of the Savoy Grill. The maitre d'hotel smiled, bowed and moved forward, upon which she made her entrance.

Lavina was good at making entrances. She was slim, very fair and, although she was not tall, her film work had taught her to make the best of her inches and she carried herself like a Princess.

Even in that sophisticated supper-time crowd, heads turned as she swept forward. Ace director Alfred Hitchcock, perched like Humpty Dumpty on the edge of a chair, gave her a little wave of greeting from one table; and B.B.C. chief Val Gielgud, looking very Russian with his little pointed beard, smiled at her from another.

The man who followed Lavina was in his late forties. He had a square face with a bulldog chin, but his features were redeemed from coarseness by pleasant brown eyes, a fine forehead and a touch of grey in his dark, smooth hair, over either temple.

Sir Samuel Curry was used to appearing in public with good-looking women. He was very rich and decidedly a connoisseur, but even so, on this night towards the end of April he was conscious of a little glow of pride in his glamorous companion as he followed her to their table and they settled themselves at it.

He did not ask her what she would have to eat but ordered for her, as they had been friends for some months and he knew all her favourite dishes. In less than a minute the waiter had departed to execute Sir Samuel's clear, decisive orders.

'You know,' he said, 'I never come here except with you. 1 much prefer the Restaurant.'

She shrugged. 'Don't be difficult, Sam dear. I know you millionaires always congregate there but the Grill's so much more interesting. Look, there's Gilbert Frankau and his pretty wife, with Leon M. Lion; and at that other table Doris Zin-keisen and her husband, Grahame Johnstone. You saw "Hitch", too, as we came in. The big man with him is Henry Sherek and the little woman is "Hitch's" clever wife who vets most of his scripts for him. Besides, all the big boys on the Press come here and that's immensely useful.'

Sam Curry smiled a little ruefully. 'Yes, I suppose it's part of your job to keep in touch with all these people, but I wish to goodness you'd be sensible and chuck it. You'll never make a film star.'

Her small, beautifully-shaped mouth opened on an exclamation of protest, but she suppressed it and lit a cigarette before she replied with calm aloofness: 'I am one already.'

'Oh, no, you're not,' he mocked her. 'You're only a starlet. No one's a real star until they've been given a Hollywood contract.'

Lavina lifted her heavy eyelids lazily. 'That doesn't apply any more, Sam.'

But in spite of her denial she knew that he was right. In three years she had done very well and, as she was only twenty-three, she still had a good film life before her. But, at times, she was subject to horrid doubts as to whether she would get much further.

Her acting was sound; she had a personality that attracted every man with whom she came in contact and, physically, she was about as nearly perfect as any woman could be, but, all the same, she knew quite well that her beauty was not of a kind best suited for motion-pictures.

It was of that fine, aristocratic type which is based on bone-formation and ensures for every woman who has it the certainty of still being lovely in old age. Her small, perfectly-chiselled Roman nose and narrow, oval face gave her great distinction; but her nose had proved an appalling handicap in her work, as in all but the most carefully selected angles it threw a tiresome shadow when she was being filmed under the glare of the arc-lamps. That one factor had already robbed her of several good parts and might well prevent her from ever achieving real stardom, unless she was willing to have her nose broken and remodelled—which she was not prepared to do.

While they ate their bligny and the stuffed quails which followed they talked of the people round about them. One waiter refilled their glasses with Roederer '28. Another brought them fresh peaches. After he had peeled them and moved away, Sana Curry said:

"When are you going to present me to your people, Lavina?'

Little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, which came from frequent laughter, creased up as she parried: "Why this sudden question?'

'Because I'm old-fashioned enough to want to observe the custom of meeting your relations before I marry you.'

Her blackened eyelashes lifted, showing the surprise in her blue-grey eyes. 'Surely you don't mean that you would walk right out of my life if they disapproved of you?'

'Of course not. It's just a courtesy.'

'But I haven't said that I will marry you yet.'

'You're going to, as sure as my name's Sam Curry.'

She shook her golden head in silent mockery.

'Listen, Lavina,' he went on. 'Even if you could become a real film star, it's a dog's life, and you know it. On the set at eight o'clock or earlier most mornings; often working the whole night through; and what little leisure you do get is wasted in acting a part all the time: opening bazaars, posing for photographers, endless fittings at dressmakers', showing yourself off in places like this because it's vital to get continuous publicity if you're to keep in the swim at all.'

'I like it,' she shrugged.

'Maybe. But in ten years, at the outside, you'll be worn out, finished, and no good to anyone. Already you're losing your eye for make-up and, if you go on this way, you'll become a hag before you're thirty. Get some of that paint off your face and look twice as beautiful. Cut out this film business and enjoy yourself, my dear, while you're still young and healthy.'

'I should be bored to tears doing nothing all day.'

'But you wouldn't be doing nothing,' he persisted. 'I've made enough to take things easy now, and we could travel. You'd like that, wouldn't you? There's the house in London. And we'd have another in the country; a big place where we could entertain. Think what fun it would be for you, with your artistic flair, to furnish and decorate it. Besides, you could do an immense amount of good with my money. I've been too busy to think of other people while I've been making it, but you must have lots of pet schemes you'd like to foster; and if running a couple of big houses, with frequent trips abroad, isn't enough, you'd find plenty to occupy you in really worth-while charities.'

'You think I'm a much nicer person than I really am. Actually, I'm extremely selfish and rather lazy.'

He looked her straight in the eyes. 'That's just one of your poses, Lavina, and if you stick on in the film game, it may become a permanent part of your nature. Instead, you're going to marry me and remain your own sweet self, and I suggest that as a first step you should introduce me to your people.'

'I've never confessed to having any.'

'True. You always pose as a "mystery woman", but I'll bet you've got some relatives tucked away somewhere. Of course, if they gave you a rotten deal, we'll leave it at that; but the chances are that they follow your career through the papers with tremendous pride, so it would be the decent thing to do just to go and see them before you get married.'

'As a matter of fact, they're very fond of me. But you might not like them.'

'Does that matter?' He smiled suddenly and his brown eyes twinkled. 'I'm not suggesting that they should come and live with us.'

'I'm afraid the squalor of my old home would quite appal you.'

'So the glamorous Lavina Leigh was dragged up in a slum?' he said meditatively. 'I find that surprising. You're an aristocrat to your finger-tips; but then, perhaps you're a love child.'

'No. I'm as certain as one can ever be that I'm not, but remember, it's marvellous what the film people can do when they groom a girl for stardom.'

'Voice, hair, beauty culture, deportment, clothes, I grant you,' he nodded, 'but they couldn't have given you those long, slender hands, your narrow wrists and ankles; or that princess-look that's so marked in all your features. The fact that you're a thoroughbred is stamped all over you. But, anyhow, what's it matter where you came from? My father was a foreman-mechanic and, if I wore the only old school tie that I'm entitled to, no one would know it outside Bradford. Are your people very poor, Lavina?'

'They struggle on, somehow, but they never quite know how they're going to keep the roof over their heads.'

'In that case I'd like to arrange to make things a bit easier for them in the future.'

Lavina laughed readily at every jest and was almost always smiling, either at something someone had said or at her secret thoughts, but now her eyes took on a serious expression as she said:

'You're a nice person, Sam, aren't you?'

'No. I'm as hard as nails but it happens that I love you, so I'd like to do things for anybody with whom you're connected. Do your people live in London?'

'No.'

'In the provinces, then?'

'No. In these days I suppose you'd almost call it a suburb.'

'Whereabouts?'

'Well, if you must know, I'm a farmer's daughter and I spent most of my childhood in the country. But Surrey has been so built-over now that you can hardly call it country any longer.'

'D'you ever go and see them?'

'No. I haven't been home for three years, because Mother's dead and I quarrelled with Father about going on the films.'

'Then it's quite time that you made it up with him.'

Lavina half-closed her eyes as she drew upon her cigarette. Then she nodded slowly. 'Perhaps you're right, Sam. My father adores me really and I've been thinking rather a lot about him lately. Mind, I still haven't said that I'm going to marry you, but if you like I'll write and say that I'm prepared to bury the hatchet and ask if I can take you down there next weekend.'

An Incredible Announcement

On the following Saturday afternoon Sir Samuel Curry drove down into Surrey with Lavina beside him. When they had passed Dorking, with its outcrop of modern, jerry-built houses, she directed him as he swung the powerful coupe through narrow, twisting lanes towards the little village of Stapleton.

The previous night she had told him that he was to pack a bag, as her father had written that he would be glad if she and her friend would stay the week-end.

Sam was immensely intrigued to see what Lavina's home would be like and had been visualizing some tumbledown old farmhouse; so he was considerably surprised when she checked him at a pair of great iron gates flanked by stone pillars, set in a wall that hemmed in a belt of woodland.

True, the iron gates, which stood open, were rusty and one of the stone lions holding shields, which crowned the pillars, had lost its head. But, quite obviously, it was the entrance to a big estate.

'Where's this?' he asked.

'Stapleton Court.'

'Has your father got the home farm here, then?'

She smiled. 'I suppose you'd call it that, as it's the only one that's left to us.'

He pulled up the car a couple of hundred yards along the drive and turned to look at her. 'D'you mean, Lavina, that Stapleton Court's your home?'

'Yes. And I don't think I told you that my real name is Stapleton, did I? My family has lived here for centuries.'

'You little devil,' he laughed. 'You led me to suppose that your father was just a poor farmer.'

'But he is, Sam. We had money once, lots of it, and owned miles of country hereabouts; but a Stapleton, in Regency times, gambled nearly everything we had away, racing cockroaches and things. Now, farming doesn't pay any longer and the family's on its beam-ends. You may have noticed that the Lodge is empty and the drive all overgrown. Of course, I pulled your leg a little bit, just for fun, but Daddy really is most desperately poor.'

'Well, perhaps we could rectify that.' He smiled as he let the clutch in again. 'Buy the place and let it to him for a peppercorn, or something.'

She quickly shook her head. 'For goodness' sake don't try to. He's as proud as Lucifer and determined to die here rather than sell the place, even if the roof literally falls in. He wouldn't accept a loan from one of his own relatives, so please don't even mention the word money.'

A quarter of a mile farther on they swept round the curve of a broad lake, beyond which lay a square, red brick Georgian house of moderate size.

There was no butler to receive them but Gervaise Stapleton came out himself with his brother, Oliver, who was also down for the week-end, and Lavina's elder sister, Margery.

Although Gervaise Stapleton had not seen his errant favourite daughter for just over three years, he greeted her as naturally as though they had only parted the day before. He was a tall, white-haired man nearing sixty, with the same aristocratic features as Lavina and the same magnetic personality.

Her uncle Oliver was a less distinguished and more untidy replica of his elder brother. The best part of his life had been spent in the Royal Observatory at Greenwich and his stooping shoulders were the result of the countless hours he had spent poring over abstruse astronomical calculations.

Margery Stapleton was three years older than Lavina and seemed to have just missed all the qualities which made Lavina such an outstanding beauty. Her limbs were sturdier, her hair light-brown instead of natural gold, her mouth even smaller and a little thin; her nose more beaked and so too prominent in her otherwise handsome face.

It was soon clear to Sam Curry that only one portion of the house was occupied; but the bedroom to which his host showed him had a cheerful wood fire burning in its grate.

'We live very simply here, as Lavina will certainly have told you before she asked you down, so I fear you'll have to unpack and fend for yourself,' was Gervaise Stapleton's only reference to his lack of servants.

'I'm used to that,' Sam lied cheerfully. It was twenty years since he had done anything but use his brain and give orders to others, but his age, his arrogance and his habit of taking it for granted that every service should be performed for him seemed to have unaccountably disappeared from the moment he had entered the half-derelict Georgian mansion.

He felt almost a boy again and that it would have been more natural to accept a five-bob tip from Lavina's father than to offer him financial assistance. There was a strange, compelling dignity about the tall white-haired figure, although Gervaise Stapleton was not the least stiff and his smiling blue eyes showed whence his younger daughter had got her sense of humour.

On coming downstairs Sam found the family assembled in the library; a long, book-lined room furnished with an assortment of pieces from a dozen different periods, but all mellowed by time, so that nothing jarred. Gervaise loved his books and so had chosen it as the living-room when economy had compelled him to close up the others.

As soon as he had a chance to talk to Margery, Sam discovered that she was as different mentally from Lavina as she was physically. The beautiful Lavina could be hard, but that was a sort of protective armour, whereas Margery's hardness was a natural quality and, clearly, she was jealous of her younger sister.

It transpired that she ran the house and looked after her father with only the help of a woman in the kitchen and a farm hand who laid the fires, cleaned the shoes and did the other heavy work each morning. She made an unnecessary parade of busying herself and mildly sarcastic remarks about Lavina's proverbial laziness.

But Lavina, lolling in a big armchair, refused to be drawn and watched her sister with a faintly cynical smile as the older girl went off to lay the table for supper.

To his own surprise, Sam found himself offering to help and he could cheerfully have smacked Lavina for the openly derisive grin with which she favoured him; but Gervaise Stapleton would not hear of his guest lifting a finger and had just produced some remarkably fine Madeira in a dust-encrusted bottle.

"We have unfortunately used up all our old sherry,' he explained, 'but I trust you will find this a passable substitute. Luckily, I still have a few bins of it. My grandfather laid it down.'

Sam made a rapid calculation. The dark golden nectar had been bottled in the 1840's or early '50's at the latest, then. He sipped it and found it marvellous.

A newcomer entered at that moment; a good-looking, fair man aged about thirty, in well worn tweeds; whom Gervaise introduced as 'our neighbour, Derek Burroughs'.

With a quick nod to Sam, Burroughs walked straight over to Lavina, took both her hands and smiled down into her face.

'So you're back at last,' he murmured. 'I was beginning to think you'd completely forgotten us.'

'I could never do that, Derek,' she smiled up at him.

Sam Curry's mouth tightened. The fellow was in love with her. That was as clear as if he had said so, and it looked as if she had tender memories of him. For the first time that evening Sam felt himself Sir Samuel, and his age—getting on for fifty. He didn't like the thought of this solid, good-looking ghost that had suddenly arisen out of Lavina's past but he comforted himself quickly. Burroughs was evidently a gentleman-farmer—a country bumpkin with little brain and probably less money. What if he had had an affair with Lavina in the past? Surely he could not hope to attract the sophisticated woman she had now become. Still, Sam admitted to himself, he would have given a good few of his thousands to be Derek Burroughs' age again or even to have his figure.

'Do you think I've changed much, Derek?' Lavina was asking.

'You're still the same Lavina underneath,' he replied slowly, 'but on the surface—well, you're a bit startling, aren't you?'

'D'you mean my make-up?'

'Yes. All that black stuff round your eyes makes them look smaller and somehow it doesn't seem to go with your fair complexion. I suppose it's all right in a film star but the simple folk round here would take you for—for . ..'

Oliver Stapleton had been quietly working at a desk in a corner of the room. He turned, and raising his horn-rimmed spectacles, looked across at Lavina under them. 'Go on, say it, Derek,' he urged with a dry chuckle. 'A scarlet woman. That's the classic expression, isn't it? She's remained quite a nice girl really, but she's still very young.'

Lavina sat up with a jerk. 'Uncle Oliver, you're a beast!' she laughed. 'Perhaps I have got a bit much on for the country but I'm so used to it.'

Sam Curry cut into the conversation with smooth tact and was rewarded by a little look of gratitude from Lavina which made his heart beat faster.

At dinner they waited upon themselves. The meal was simple but good, and over it the Stapletons and Derek Burroughs talked mainly of old times and friends whom Sam did not know, which left him rather out of it, although Gervaise Stapleton took pains to draw him into the conversation at every opportunity.

Afterwards they sat in the library again and Lavina told her family something of the joys and pitfalls that she had met with during her three years in the studios.

At half-past eleven Derek Burroughs reluctantly broke up the party as he had a sick mare that he wanted to look at before he turned in; but on leaving he said that he would be over again first thing in the morning and it was agreed that he and Lavina should go for a ride together.

Margery, Lavina and Sam went up to bed, leaving the two older men together. Oliver had a great pile of logarithm books and other astronomical impedimenta on the desk in the far corner of the room; and he settled down to do an hour's work before going to bed. But Gervaise Stapleton was, for him, unusually restless. After reading a few pages of his book, he threw it down and addressed his brother.

'Well, what do you make of her, Oliver?'

The tall, untidy astronomer pushed his spectacles up on his forehead and turned in his chair. 'Make of whom?' he asked, vaguely.

'Why, Lavina, of course.'

'Oh—Lavina. I think she's looking very well. Older, of course, and a little hard; but that is only on the surface. The girl has character, you know, Gervaise. Always had. And that's doubtless stood her in good stead through any trouble. She laughs as easily as ever, which shows that she has come to no serious harm; but then, I never thought she would, and you may remember that I felt you were wrong when you so strongly opposed her going into the film business.'

Gervaise nodded. 'Yes. I think I way wrong but, from all one had heard, the film people seemed such a terribly mixed lot, and she was only twenty.'

At that moment Lavina came into the room again, looking very small and very young now that she had taken most of the make-up off her face and was wearing flat-heeled slippers and a dressing-gown.

She was an impulsive person, and feeling that she owed it to her father to have a heart-to-heart talk with him at the first opportunity, had decided not to delay it until the morning. The fact that her Uncle Oliver was there did not deter her, as the two brothers had no secrets from each other and, in any case, he had turned back to his calculations on her entry.

Going straight up to her father where he stood with his back to the smouldering wood fire on its great pile of accumulated winter ashes, she said softly: 'Well, dearest, am I forgiven?'

He put both his hands on her shoulders and smiled down at her. 'Of course you are, my princess. It is really I who should ask your forgiveness, for opposing you so bitterly three years ago that you ran away and cut yourself off from us.'

'I ought to have been more patient, darling, and waited another year as you wanted me to, but I can understand now just what you felt. You must have thought that all sorts of terrible things would happen.'

He shook his head. 'I should have known that with your personality you'd be all right, and I've blamed myself terribly since for not letting you go when you wanted to. Then you would at least have had our support in those early months when you must have needed it most.'

'They weren't so bad. Of course, there are bad hats in the film business just like any other; but I soon learnt how to deal with them when they became difficult, and most of the film people are wonderfully kindhearted. Many of them were absolutely marvellous to me.'

'I wish I'd known that at the time, because I'm afraid I did them an injustice and it would have saved me many a night of sleepless worry about you.'

'Poor darling! Never mind. It's all over now and we're together again.'

'Yes. And you've come back triumphant, a famous film star.'

'No, dearest, not really. I am a star by courtesy, but I've never made a really big picture. The trouble is that I'm not really photogenic and every picture I play in means endless extra trouble for the director and cutters before they're satisfied. What d'you think of Sam?'

Gervaise considered for a moment. 'He seems a nice fellow. Is he the Sir Samuel Curry who gambles for such big sums at Deauville and Le Touquet? I seem to remember seeing his name in a paper somewhere in that connection.'

'Yes. He's immensely rich and the few thousands he makes or loses at the tables are only a bagatelle to him. He wants to marry me.'

'So I supposed,' Gervaise remarked dryly.

'Why?'

'What man could know you and not want to marry you?'

'You always were a flatterer, darling; but what do you think about it, seriously?'

'Does that matter? My little princess always did have her own way in everything, so it's a bit late in the day for her to try to put her responsibilities on her old father now.'

'But it does matter what you think, darling. Because, you see, for once in my life I can't make up my mind. If I were convinced that I could become a really great star I'd stick to my career, but I'm afraid the odds are rather against it. Yet I like making pictures and all the friends that I've made are in the film world. Sam insists that, if I marry him, I must cut out the films entirely, but of course he can offer me everything that money can buy by way of exchange.'

'Surely the crux of the matter is, are you really fond of him?'

'Yes. I'm not passionately in love with him or anything of that sort, but I'm beginning to think that I never shall be with anyone, and Sam is the only man I've ever met who has all the qualities a woman could ask for in a husband. He's kind, generous to a degree, definitely good-looking, and has that forceful personality which a real man should have.'

'On the other hand, he is a bit old for you, isn't he?'

Lavina nodded. 'That's just it. He's forty-six and I'm only twenty-three. I suppose that doesn't matter, really, if you're fond of a person, but I'm just a tiny bit frightened that in a few years' time I might fall for somebody younger and I'd hate to break up Sam's life by running away.'

Oliver had finished his calculation and was looking across at her. 'I don't think you need let that worry you,' he said quietly. 'I didn't mean to tell anybody, because it's a highly dangerous secret; but I think it a pity, Lavina, that you should die without going through the experience of marriage.'

Gervaise and Lavina turned to stare at him and she exclaimed: 'Oliver! What on earth d'you mean?'

He laid down a long Burma cheroot he was smoking on the edge of the ash-tray. 'Just this, my dear. A comet, which is not yet visible to the human eye, is approaching us at enormous speed. If it is a solid body, as we have some reason to suppose, our earth will be shattered into fragments when it hits us. It is now April 25th; the comet is due to arrive on June 24th and, in my opinion, none of us has more than sixty days to live.'

Even Worlds Sometimes Die

In her three years as a film actress Lavina had ridden on outdoor locations when her work required it, but it was many months since she had mounted a horse solely for pleasure. In consequence, it was with a special thrill that she cantered beside Derek Burroughs over the meadows surrounding her home, on the morning after her return to it.

After her three years' absence she was a very different Lavina from the girl of twenty who had run away to seek fame on the films, yet, to her, not a blade of grass seemed to have changed in the quiet Surrey landscape. The old Georgian mansion in which she had been born lay behind them down by the lake, with two-thirds of its windows dusty and shuttered; the green pastures curved away in front, broken by hedges, occasional coppices and the belt of woodland that bounded the estate, just as she had always known them.

On the crest of a hill she and Derek reined their horses in to a walk and he turned to smile at her.

'I see you haven't lost that splendid seat of yours.'

She laughed. 'Riding's like bicycling, isn't it? Once learnt, never forgotten. You ought to know that, darling.'

The endearment slipped out. In the film world she was so used to calling everybody 'darling', but she regretted having used that term to Derek. Time was when she had often called him 'darling', but that was long ago; and she feared now that he might attach a meaning to the word which she had not intended.

Before he could reply, she hurried on: 'Gervaise is looking well, isn't he? But keeping up this place must be an awful strain on him. Are things just as bad as ever, Derek?'

He nodded. 'I'm afraid so. He doesn't tell me much. You know how proud he is. If only he'd sell the place he could have a comfortable flat in London or a small house somewhere in the neighbourhood, but he's absolutely determined to hang on here. His income is just enough to keep the house going without servants but we poor farmers have been pretty badly hit, and I don't see much hope of permanent recovery.'

'You seem to take it very philosophically yourself.'

'Oh, I manage somehow. Selling a mare here and there and by sending all my stuff from the hothouses up to London. And I like the life; I wouldn't change it to be cooped up in an office, even if I could make ten times the money.'

She glanced at him swiftly from beneath lowered lids. His clear-cut features and the wavy brown hair she had so often stroked were as attractive as ever. Even the sight of him was enough to call up for her the smell of tobacco and old tweeds that clung to him and had once meant more to her than the perfumes of all Arabia. Giving herself a little shake she said:

'I think you're right. I can't see you mixed up in the turmoil of modern business. You'd hate it, Derek.'

'I should have thought you would have hated it, too. I've never been able to visualise the Lavina I loved rubbing shoulders with all the queer birds you must have met by this time.'

'Oh, I can look after myself. It's always the woman who makes the running, you know. A girl gets what she asks for and, if she takes a firm line to start with, all but a few outsiders are perfectly prepared just to remain friendly and let her alone.'

'You're glad to be back, though.'

'Terribly. It's like escaping from an orchid house, or rather from the heat and din of a ship's engine-room into the fresh sea air on deck.'

'Does that mean—' he hesitated, 'that there's a chance of your staying for some time?'

She shook her head. 'I'd like to, for Gervaise's sake. He's so very glad to see me. But I've come to a turning-point in my life and, whichever way I decide, I'll have arrangements to make which mean my going back to London tonight.'

'D'you mean that they've offered you a Hollywood contract and that you may be going abroad?'

'No. I may be giving up the films altogether. That's what I've got to decide.' 'By Jove! If you do chuck the films, once you've fixed things up we may be seeing lots more of you.'

'Yes. I shall never stay away so long again.'

'You might even come back to live here?'

'No, Derek, no.' She quickly quelled the hope that was so clear in his eager voice. 'If I decide to give up my career, it will be to marry.'

'I see,' he said slowly. 'So at last you've found a chap on whom you're really keen?'

'Sam Curry wants to marry me.'

'Curry?'

'Yes. Didn't you realise?'

'But, hang it all, he's old enough to be your father.'

'What has that to do with it?' Lavina looked away angrily. 'He has one of the best brains in England and he's incredibly nice.'

'Perhaps. But, if it comes to brains, I daresay Einstein has a better. I should have thought brains were one of the least important things when it came to a question of marriage.'

'Oh, don't be silly. I never said I was marrying him for his brains alone.'

'For what, then? His money?'

"Don't you think that you're exceeding the privileges of even a very old friend?' Lavina said, with dangerous quietness.

'Sorry,' he apologised. 'Let's canter.'

An hour later, when they got back to the house and Derek had handed the horse over to the groom he had brought with him, they found Gervaise Stapleton, his brother Oliver, and Sir Samuel Curry congregated in the library.

'One can't ignore Oliver's statement,' Gervaise was saying. 'After all, he's an astronomer, and if he says this comet is coming nearer to the earth than it ever has before, we must accept that as a fact.'

The three men turned as Lavina and Derek came into the room. 'Hullo,' she cried, 'we've had such a glorious ride that I'd almost forgotten about the comet. I see Sam's having it out with you.'

'I was just saying,' smiled Sam, 'that, although your uncle is no doubt right about this comet approaching, the universe being so vast, it doesn't follow that the thing will get drawn into our orbit and smash us up.'

'What is all this?' inquired Derek amiably.

'You'd better ask Uncle Oliver,' Lavina replied. 'He scared me into fits last night by saying that he didn't think any of us had more than sixty days to live.'

Oliver shook his dome-like, sparsely covered head, from the back and sides of which wisps of fine brown hair stood out untidily. 'You're a very naughty girl, Lavina. I told you this was a most dangerous secret and must go no further, yet the first thing you do is to tell Sir Samuel here, and then Derek.'

She blew him a playful kiss. 'Nonsense, darling. Sam's as deep as a well and Derek is almost one of the family. Besides, you as good as confessed, before I went up to bed, that you were joking. I only mentioned it to Sam after breakfast this morning because I thought it would be fun to see you pull his leg about it.'

'I'm afraid Oliver wasn't joking, dearest.' Gervaise spoke with quiet firmness. 'He only allowed you to assume that he was, so that you could sleep on it and this appalling thing shouldn't come as too great a shock to you.'

Her eyes widened. 'You mean—you really mean . . . ?'

'I mean that Oliver seems to be convinced that a comet is going to smash our world to fragments on June 24th.'

'But—what do you think?'

Gervaise smiled a little grimly. 'My dear, what can any of us think, or do, except accept the opinion of an expert and make up our minds to face whatever is to come with what fortitude we may.'

Derek flung his riding crop on a chair and sat down. 'Surely, Oliver, you can't be serious? The idea that the world will come to an end in eight weeks' time is really a bit too much to swallow.'

'Naturally, it is rather an alarming thought at first,' Oliver replied mildly. 'But worlds do come to an end, you know, and there's no reason to suppose that ours should be specially immune from such a catastrophe. If you had witnessed some of the mighty flare-ups which have occurred in the heavens during the many years I have spent in Greenwich Observatory you would, I think, be more ready to accept my statement as a real probability.'

'I wouldn't dream of challenging your authority on such a subject, sir,' Sam Curry said politely, 'and you must correct me if I'm wrong, but I've always understood comets were mainly composed of gases. Even if one hit our earth, it would probably only destroy a portion of the population. In any case, there would be no cataclysmic collision such as one might expect in the case of two great heavenly bodies rushing together.'

Gervaise smiled. 'I expect you're thinking of H. G. Wells's fantasy, In the Days of the Comet. In that the cases only caused everyone to fall into a twilight sleep, from which they woke up as model socialists to develop a new and perfect world-state.'

Oliver shook his head. 'This comet may be composed only of gas and a great collection of small meteorites. Many comets are, but not all. There is, for example, the classic case of a comet which caused the great red spot on Jupiter.'

'What was that?' asked Derek quickly.

'Jupiter has a very dense, cloud-laden atmosphere which, as far as we know, was more or less uniform all over its surface until May 19th, 1664. It was then that the astronomer, Hooke, observed a huge red spot on its surface. That spot has been there ever since, and our modern instruments have shown us that it consists of fiery vapours like those of a vast volcano which pour out unceasingly right through the planet's thick cloud-layers. The only possible explanation for the phenomenon is that a solid comet of great size crashed into Jupiter in the seventeenth century with such force that it broke clean through the planet's surface making a rent which has never healed.'

'Well, even if that happened to us,' said Sam, 'it might mean great loss of life in one particular area but the rest of the world would go on much the same.'

'I fear that would hardly be the case,' Oliver disagreed, 'if it were a comet like the one that hit Jupiter. You see, Jupiter is over thirteen hundred times the bulk of our earth and its cloud-layer alone is estimated to be 6,000 miles thick. The rent that was torn in it is 7,000 miles broad by 30,000 miles long, so, if we came into collision with the same sort of body, the whole of our earth would be shattered into tiny little bits.'

'Still, it might not be as big,' Derek suggested hopefully.

'True,' Oliver agreed.

'And it might not be a solid meteorite at all,' added Sam.

Quite,' agreed Oliver again. 'The chances are, in fact, somewhat in favour of its being no more than a great mass of cosmic dust, small meteorites and flaming gas. But, even if it is, should it actually come into collision with us, the disturbance caused by its arrival here would almost certainly blot out all life on our planet.'

'Oh, come!' exclaimed Sam. 'The earth has often passed through the tails of comets without the public even being aware of what was happening.'

'True. But the tails of comets are often tens of thousands of miles in length and such comets have always swept on their way without passing sufficiently near to be drawn into our sphere of gravity; whereas in this case, if my calculations are correct, we shall pull the solid body or the mass of flaming gas right in on top of us.'

'I gather, though, Oliver, that all your colleagues are not of the same opinion as yourself,' remarked Gervaise.

Oliver shrugged his bent shoulders. 'The comet is still so distant that it has been impossible up till now to estimate its track with any real exactness and some of us consider there is still a hope that it may pass us by. Until we reach agreement there is no point in alarming the public unnecessarily and that is why we have, so far, refrained from publishing anything about it.'

'That, too,' added Gervaise, 'is why I think it should be understood between us that no mention of the matter is made outside this house. You see; if the danger became generally known, it might lead to the most appalling panic, and even riots.'

'But your own opinion, Oliver, is that it's going to hit us?' Lavina's voice had a slightly hysterical note.

'Yes, my dear. When I spoke to you last night I had just finished an entirely new set of calculations by which I proved the matter to my own satisfaction and which I feel reasonably certain will convince my colleagues that I am right.'

'But hang it all!' Derek jumped up from his chair. M can'tj believe it! I suppose the world's got to end some time, but it's! been going on for such millions of years. It just doesn't seer™ credible that it should come to an end almost without warning' like this.'

'I'm afraid that's what most people will feel,' Oliver said quietly. 'Perhaps I ought never to have mentioned it. You must forgive me if I've scared you all but when I spoke to Lavina I was a little over-excited by the success of my calculation.'

'Success!' Sam echoed, with a queer little laugh. 'Anyhow, you don't seem at all put out about the impending catastrophe yourself.'

'Oh, no, not at all. You see, as a scientist, I can only regard the ending of the world as an extraordinarily interesting phenomenon. In fact, I count it a great privilege to be living at a time when such a momentous event is about to take place and I hope to have the opportunity of making observations up to the very last moment. But, of course, you people having other interests are naturally inclined to take a rather different view. I'm so sorry if I've upset any of you by letting the cat out of the bag a little prematurely.'

Gervaise was not listening to his brother's rather vague apology for his pronouncement, which might well be calculated utterly to disrupt the even tenor of all their lives. He was studying the expressions of the people grouped about him.

Derek Burroughs' open face showed quite clearly that the full import of Oliver's words had not yet come home to him. Sir Samuel Curry's was veiled, but Gervaise felt instinctively that the millionaire believed Oliver to be a crank, although he was much too polite to say so.

Margery had entered the room while they were talking and she had also been present during the earlier part of the discussion, before the arrival of Lavina and Derek. Her father knew that, although for a long time she had given up going to church, she was still imbued with the rather narrow religious beliefs of her youth; and therefore regarded Oliver's prognostications with a somewhat similar disbelief to that displayed by the priests of the Middle Ages when Galileo declared the world to be round. He gave an inward chuckle at the thought that her reactions could almost be summed up with some such phrase as 'I'm sure God would never permit His creatures all to be wiped out, without warning, like that.'

Gervaise's eye then fell upon his youngest daughter. Lavina, he knew, was a fatalist and she had unbounded faith in her uncle's scientific knowledge. The night before she had thought that he was joking, but it was clear that she had now accepted his prophecy of death for all mankind without further question.

Gervaise was not surprised when she laid her hand on Sam Curry's arm and said, 'Well, if we've only got sixty days, darling, I'll marry you just as soon as you like.'

A Strange Premonition

When Lavina had promised Sam Carry that she would mairy him just as soon as he liked, she had not meant that quite literally; and the ten days that followed seemed to her one long series of abominably crowded hours punctaated by intervals of exhausted sleep.

At times he chaffed her, on the lines that, if the world was really coming to an end on June 24th, why should she worry herself about a hundred little things which would not matter to anyone on June 25th.

As the passing days had not in the least shaken her belief in the accuracy of her uncle's scientific prediction, she admitted, that many of her activities were really a waste of time; yet some innate sense compelled her to put her house in order. She spent hours with her agent, who thought her mad, wrangling about the cancellation of future contracts; and further hours endeavouring to placate irate film magnates. In addition, she had made up her mind that, even if she was not going to have a big wedding, that was no reason at all why she should not get herself a complete trousseau, and her dressmakers claimed her constant attention.

Sam had not pressed her unduly about the date of the wedding, as he did not believe for one moment that the world was coming to an end on June 24th, but he got her to agree to marry him on May 12th and in the meantime he was anxious that she should meet as many of his friends as possible; for which purpose he arranged a series of luncheons at his big house in St. James's Square.

Most of these were large affairs but on May 8th he had a small party consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Fink-Drummond, the Marchesa del Serilla and Captain Rupert Brand. Conchita del Serilla was an old friend of Sam's and it was he who had introduced her to Rupert Brand, the ace airman. They had fallen for each other at once and were now engaged to be married, which made Sam rather pleased with himself. He was, therefore, particularly anxious that Lavina should get to know and like them.

Having called for Lavina at Aage Thaarup's and dragged her away from the collection of hats which that expert was making for her, Sam told her on the short drive back to St. James's Square something of the people whom she was going to meet.

'The Marchesa sounds most seductive,' Lavina smiled. 'I shall be diabolically jealous of her, though. I'm sure you know her much better than you're prepared to admit.'

'Oh, not really.' Sam looked a little self-consciously at his feet. 'She's a good-looker, of course, but she had a ghastly time in Spain. She was pretty badly beaten up by those swine in the Revolution and she just wouldn't look at a man after that—till she met Rupert. He's a grand chap and they're absolutely made for each other. Neither of them are children and I believe they've both fallen really in love for the first time. It's only when you've had plenty of experience that you recognise when a person's really worth while, you know.'

Lavina shot a swift glance at the greying hair above Sam's strong features. He had never concealed the fact that he had had plenty of experience.

'Does that apply to women, too?' she could not resist asking with just a shade of gentle mockery.

'Lord, no! Women are different,' he laughed, 'although Con-chita must be thirty-ish.'

'What are the Fink-Drummonds like?' she inquired, to break the little silence that followed.

'Surely you know about them. He resigned from the Government about a year ago. Made a great song and dance about it. Thought he could split the Cabinet and force them to go to the country; but he didn't pull it off. He's not quite as clever as he thinks he is, but he's been mighty useful to me in a business way and may be again if a sudden twist of the political wheel brings him back into power. That's why I want you to be nice to him.'

'I see. He's the puppet and you pull the strings. How clever of you, Sam darling. But what about her? She was a famous! beauty, wasn't she?'

'That's right. She's hard as nails and has had lovers by the score, but she still believes he'll be Prime Minister one day. She'd like to move into No. 10 Downing Street, and, through her boy-friends, she wields enormous influence. That's why they married and why they stick together.'

Over cocktails Lavina met the people of whom they had been talking. Fink-Drummond was a tall, dark man, with a pompous manner, a very prominent nose and a rather weak china his wife certainly had been beautiful in her youth and was beautiful still. Her large, rather tired blue eyes looked out of a pale, oval face, crowned by not too obviously touched-up golden hair. She was as slim as a sylph and as icy as a February wind. Lavina took an instinctive dislike to the Fink-Drum-monds, but, having Sam to consider, she used all her cleverness to conceal it.

Her view of Conchita del Serilla and Rupert Brand was entirely different. The big, dark eyes of the lovely Spanish Marchesa were friendly and sincere, while the strong, light-grey ones of the airman held courage and good faith. To anyone coming from Lavina's sophisticated world it was a joy to see two people who so obviously adored each other and made no bones about showing it.

It was after lunch when the servants had left the room that Fink-Drummond said:

'I heard an extraordinary thing this morning. Although I'm no longer in the Cabinet, I know everything that's going on. I've plenty of friends on the inside, still, who keep me well informed. Apparently, the P.M. is considerably disturbed about a comet that's coming our way. Of course, it's all very hush-hush, but the Astronomer Royal reported it some days ago, and it appears they're afraid now that somewhere towards the end of June it's going to hit us.'

'That seems a pretty tall story,' laughed Captain Brand, as Lavina and Sam exchanged a quick glance.

'It certainly seems so on the face of it,' Fink-Drummond admitted. 'I shouldn't have taken any serious notice of the story myself if it hadn't come from an impeccable source. I'm told, though, that some members of the Cabinet are seriously alarmed. They seem to think it may bring about the end of the world.'

'How absurd!' exclaimed his wife. 'And just the sort of stupid story which might create a panic. But perhaps that's the explanation. The P.M.'s clever. He's quite capable of using it to force a General Election in order to get the Government home again on a wave of hysteria.'

Fink-Drummond nodded. 'That occurred to me, but I don't think that's the game. I hear they're determined to keep it from the public as long as possible, so it looks as if they were genuinely scared.'

'What would happen if it were really true?' asked the Mar-chesa, in her deep, husky voice.

'I don't really know.' Fink-Drummond considered for a moment. 'Probably we'd have earthquakes, great tidal waves, and that sort of thing.'

Rupert Brand laughed. 'Then the only safe place would be in the air. My new plane, which is specially equipped for stratosphere flying, would be just the thing. Whatever happened down here, we'd be safe enough up on the ceiling; then we'd land again when the tidal waves had subsided.' He looked across with smiling eyes at Conchita.

'What a honeymoon,' she purred. 'Perhaps, when we came down again there'd be no one left alive on the earth, so we should have to start the world all over again, like Adam and Eve, in a new Garden of Eden.'

Mrs. Fink-Drummond smiled a little weakly. 'It sounds too enchanting, but I don't think being up in the air would help you much if this comet really crashed into us.'

'It won't,' her husband declared pompously. 'Comets are only composed of meteorites and gas, so there is no question of any actual collision.'

'Are you quite sure about that?' Lavina inquired politely. 'I was under the impression that some comets were solid.'

'Oh, no, you've been misinformed there,' Fink-Drummond contradicted her quickly.

Lavina considered her uncle a much better authority upon astronomical matters than the ex-Cabinet Minister, but she tactfully refrained from mentioning the source of her own information.

B

'I really can't believe there is anything in this story of yours. Finkie,' Sam remarked. 'The world has survived for such billions of years, with comets rushing about the heavens the whole time. It seems to be an incredibly long chance against one hitting the earth head-on during the infinitesimal span of time that constitutes our own lives.'

'Of course, there's nothing in it. Can't be,' Fink-Drummond agreed. 'Anyway, no more than that a comet may pass within a few score million miles and appear as a big, bright new star in the heavens for a time.'

'That's about it,' Sam nodded. 'Just like the comet of 1811. I remember reading somewhere that people thought then that the world was coming to an end, and there were all sorts of demonstrations and riots in consequence.'

Beatrice Fink-Drummond screwed another cigarette into a long jade holder. 'That is evidently what the Cabinet are worrying themselves about. They fear that ignorant people will get frightened without cause, and that somebody may play upon their fears to make trouble for the Government.'

Lavina saw Fink-Drummond's eyes suddenly narrow, as though an idea had just occurred to him. But he said nothing.

'Well, if there is any excitement,' Sam remarked, 'we should be back just in time for it. I wanted to do a trip round the world, but Lavina says, "Let's save that for the winter."'

'Yes, a month to five weeks is quite long enough now,' Lavina smiled. 'Then I want to get settled in my new home.'

'Where are you going?' Beatrice Fink-Drummond asked. 'Or is that a secret?'

'Goodness, no!' Sam cut in. 'But it's going to be about the queerest honeymoon that you could imagine for two people like ourselves. We're both a bit tired of city lights and crowds and dressing-up, so, after a few days in Paris, we're going south, to the Pyrenees. Once we get there, we're going to abandon Lavina's maid, my man, and nine-tenths of the luggage. Just take the car up into those lovely, sun-baked pine woods along the foothills of the mountains and lead the simple life. Stay at tiny places, do a bit of walking, and, in fact, get some real fun out of the one sort of holiday that neither of us has ever dreamed of trying before.'

'My dear, how primitive!' Beatrice Fink-Drummond made a pretence of being shocked. 'You really must love each other almost indecently if you're not afraid of getting bored with five weeks of that.'

'Either you love a person or you don't,' Rupert Brand took her up swiftly, 'and, if you do, those first few weeks alone together must be heaven. Most of us are such fools that we fritter away all our lives mixing with crowds of mainly stupid people most of whom we don't care two hoots about.'

Without waiting for a reply he turned to Lavina. 'Will you forgive me if I go now? I've got a flying appointment down at Heston.'

His departure broke up the party, and when Sam's guests had gone Lavina said suddenly:

'Well, my unbelieving love, what about the comet now?'

He shrugged. 'I don't see that what Finkie said changes the situation. We've never questioned your uncle's statement that a comet is coming our way, and, naturally, the Astronomer Royal would report that to the Cabinet. It doesn't follow that it's going to smash us up, though.'

'I must confess that there are times when I can't really believe that Oliver's right about the comet hitting the earth,' she admitted. 'The idea that we're actually going to witness the end of the world is too utterly fantastic. All the same, I'm sure the old boy believes it himself, and he's such a very brilliant scientist that somehow I don't think he can be mistaken.'

Sam took her hand and squeezed it. 'Don't worry your sweet head about it. If it comes, it comes. In the meantime, we're going to have five glorious weeks together and, personally, I don't care if the whole box of tricks does blow up after that.'

'Nor do I, Sam darling.' She lifted her face to his kiss and for a few moments they lingered together. Then, as he led her out into the hall, he said:

"By the by, Hemmingway got back last night and I gave him details of all the alterations that you want made to the rooms during our absence. I think you ought to go over them with him, though, in case I've forgotten anything, and anyhow, I want you to meet him.'

'Yes, I'd like to. He's your secretary, isn't he?'

'Hemmingway Hughes is something much more than that. I've come to regard him as my closest personal friend and he would have lunched with us today if he hadn't had urgent business in the City. He's half American, you know, and has just returned from a trip to the States where he's been conducting some secret negotiations for me, while ostensibly on a visit to his mother.'

'You must trust him a lot, then. How old is he?'

'He's only twenty-nine or thirty but he has the ablest brain for his age of any man I've ever met and he's extraordinarily knowledgeable about books and art and all sorts of other things outside business. I do hope you'll like him.'

'I hope so, too, although he sounds rather frightening.'

Sam took her up to the first floor and opened the door of a big room at the back of the house. A youngish man was seated there, behind a desk. As he rose at their entrance, Lavina saw that he was about six feet tall, and well-built without being unduly heavy. His dark hair, which curled slightly, had receded a little, which made his broad, high forehead a particularly outstanding feature; but it was his eyes which were most remarkable. They were dark, intense, and seemed to have a quality of wisdom and age about them far beyond the years of their owner.

'Hemmingway,' said Sam, 'I'm most anxious for you to meet my fiancee, Lavina Stapleton. Darling, this is my friend, Hemmingway Hughes.'

For a second Lavina felt as though those strange eyes of Hemmingway's were looking down into the most secret recesses of her mind; then his pale, young-old face was lit by a smile. 'It's grand to meet you in the flesh,' he said. 'I've often admired you as Lavina Leigh in your pictures.'

'That's nice of you,' Lavina smiled in reply. 'Sam tells me that you're his second self, so I shall be seeing lots of you, and I do hope we'll be good friends.'

'I'm sure we shall.' He extended a well-shaped, carefully manicured hand.

As she took it, Lavina was conscious of a horrible premonition that they were either going to be deadly enemies or something very much more to each other than just friends.

The Unscrupulous Ex-Minister

On May 12th Lavina and Sam were married. There had been no time to arrange the great social function which Sam would have liked to stage, in order to show off his lovely young filmstar bride to his hundreds of wealthy acquaintances; and, although Lavina, having become accustomed to the limelight during the latter part of her film career, would have raised no objection to a big show, she really preferred the idea of being married quietly from her own home in Surrey.

The initial difficulty had been the dilapidated condition of Stapleton Court and the fact that her father lived by such a narrow margin that he could not possibly afford even the few-pounds it would cost to open up the house, much less give her a reception there; and he was far too proud to allow Sam to foot the bill for him.

Yet Gervaise Stapleton was not an unreasonable man. He was delighted at the thought that his daughter wanted to be married from her old home rather than from an hotel in London, and when she pointed out that her film earnings had left her with a considerable bank balance, from which she could well afford to pay for everything herself, he readily agreed that she should do so.

For the past week charwomen, french-polishers and menders had been hard at it, scrubbing and cleaning the reception rooms —which had not been open for nearly a quarter of a century— and mending their furnishings. So that on the morning of the wedding a firm of London caterers had had a clear field to prepare for the reception.

Only about a hundred people had been invited; Sam's more intimate friends, some of Lavina's film folk and a number of neighbours who had known her since her childhood.

Derek Burroughs was there, making a gallant attempt to hide the gloom he could not help feeling. Conchita del Serilla, Rupert Brand and Fink-Drummond were among those who had motored down from London; but Mrs. Fink-Drummond was not present, as she had sailed the day before on a visit to friends in the United States.

Everyone agreed that Lavina, with her slight figure, thin, Roman-nosed, aristocratic little face and natural golden hair, made an enchanting bride; and that, in spite of his bulldog chin and greying hair, Sam did not really look old enough to be her father.

Gervaise, in an old-fashioned grey frock-coat and topper, dug out for the occasion, looked positively ducal, and Sam thought that Margery, as the only bridesmaid, looked younger and prettier than on any of the few occasions he had seen her.

Hemmingway Hughes, his pale, clever face smiling but spinx-like, made an excellent best man and, without appearing to do anything very much, saw to it with his usual efficiency that all the arrangements worked smoothly.

One guest whom Lavina was particularly pleased to see afterwards at the reception was Oliver's son, her cousin Roy. He was the bad hat of the family and had spent the best part of the last ten years roving about in the Far East, earning a precarious living in a variety of rather dubious ways; but he was a good-natured, amusing person and Lavina had always been fond of him.

When he managed to get her to himself for a moment he laughingly congratulated her upon having been clever enough to find such a good-looking millionaire for a husband.

'You're over thirty so it's time you settled down yourself, Roy,' she laughed back at him.

'No one will have me,' he grinned.

'I don't believe it.' Her glance took in his bronzed, attractive face with the fair, wavy hair above it. 'You haven't lost your looks and you always were a devil with the women!'

That's just the trouble. Each girl seems to find out about one of the others, and there's always a rumpus before I even get as far as popping the question. Besides, there aren't so many young women knocking around who have the cash and would be prepared to keep me.'

'You're still broke, then?'

'Absolutely stony. That's why I decided to come back to England. Things were getting too hot for me in the East. Too many writs flying about, and I thought I might induce the old man to kill the fatted calf and set me up in some sort of business here.'

'Poor Oliver's killed too many fatted calves for you already, my lad, and he's never had much money, so I shouldn't think you'll have any luck in that direction.'

He sighed. 'No. He was decent enough, but he's so wrapped up in his astronomy that it's almost impossible to get him to talk business. How about this wealthy husband of yours, though? He's got all sorts of interests. Think you could do me a turn, old girl, and get him to put me into something?'

Lavina smiled a little doubtfully. 'You've blotted your copybook so often, Roy, and I'd have to tell Sam the truth about you; but if you care to leave it like that, I'll ask him if he can do anything when we get back from our honeymoon.'

'Thanks. You're a darling. Always were. Don't blacken the old horse too much, though, and I really will put in man's time if you can persuade him to give me a job. You might tell him, too, that I approve the brand of champagne he's given us for this little "do". I'm going to knock off another bottle before I hit the trail for London.'

'Do, Roy. Two, if you like. And thanks for the compliment, because I chose the wine and am paying for it.'

He lifted an eyebrow lazily. 'Poor old girl. With his moneybags to draw on, you must be crackers! But you always were queer about that sort of thing. Anyhow, good hunting on your honeymoon!'

As some other guests came up he left her and, while she was talking with them, she noticed that Fink-Drummond had got Sam a little apart from the crowd, in another corner of the room.

Fink-Drummond was saying: 'Listen, Sam, I hate to drag you away from your friends at a time like this but I've a most important matter that I must tell you about before you leave England. I won't keep you long, but is there somewhere we could have a quiet word together?'

'Of course, Finkie, if it's something really urgent.' Sam glanced quickly round the room and added: 'Come along to the library. The family use it as a living-room so it's been shut up for today. No one will disturb us there.'

When they reached the library, Fink-Drummond perched himself on the corner of Gervaise Stapleton's big desk and said impressively: 'Since I lunched with you the other day I've been doing a lot of quiet thinking. You may remember it was suggested that the Government might intend to use this threat of danger from the comet that is approaching as a means of panicking the public and getting themselves home again on a snap election.'

Sam nodded. 'Yes. But you said yourself that that could not possibly be their intention because they had decided to keep all knowledge of the comet from the public as long as possible.'

'Exactly.' Fink-Drummond tapped Sam on the grey satin stock he was wearing, with a strong, slightly twisted forefinger. 'That is the whole point. If they're not going to use it, is there any reason why somebody else shouldn't?'

'I see.' Sam frowned slightly as his quick brain grasped the trend of the ex-Cabinet Minister's thoughts. 'You're suggesting that, when you've got your own followers organised, you should blow the gaff about the comet before the Government has the chance to do so? Accuse them of criminal negligence in failing to take such precautions as are possible against the danger, force a General Election and ride home to power yourself on a panic wave of popular indignation?'

'Precisely. And I'm certain it could be done.'

'Perhaps. But have you considered the risk of such a proceeding? To pull off a scheme like that you'd have to stress the danger sufficiently to create a state of national alarm. Once you do that, the masses might get out of hand. Riots, even revolution, might result from such a policy.'

'That is a risk, of course; but it could be dealt with. And look what you stand to gain. Since the arms race has been stopped by these new treaties, your steel plants must have been feeling the draught pretty badly. Once we get this thing going, they'll be working overtime again. It will be just like 1938, when the Air Raid Precautions business started. As a protection from the flaming gases of the comet shelters will have to be dug all over the country; thousands of tons of steel girders will have to be supplied; and, naturally, I should see to it that you got the lion's share of the contracts.'

'Very decent of you,' said Sam quietly. 'And what do you require as a quid pro quo?'

'Money, my friend. Without money I can't possibly fight an election. I shall want £100,000 for Press and election expenses. You put up the funds and leave me to do the rest. How d'vou like it?'

'It requires a little thought; £100,000 is a pretty considerable sum to risk on an election gamble.'

Fink-Drummond drew his heavy brows together in a frown until they almost met over his big, fleshy nose. 'What's come over you, Sam?' he asked impatiently. 'Your love affair must have dulled your wits, I think. Surely you see that I'm not really asking you to gamble a single cent. You can make your money back time and again on the falling markets, quite apart from any question as to whether I go back to Westminster as P.M. and am able to push any contracts in your way, or not. If this scheme is worked properly, it'll be far and away the biggest thing that either of us has ever gone into. But if you have any doubts about it, I don't want to press you. You know quite well that I can get the money from half a dozen people in the City. I'm just making you the first offer, that's all.'

'Wait here a moment, will you?' Sam turned away. 'I'm just going to get Hemmingway. I always like to have his views on anything that's really big like this.'

'Is that necessary?'

'Yes. Lavina and I must leave in half an hour or we shall miss the Paris plane and, in any case, if I take it on, Hemmingway will have to handle the financial side of it while I'm away.'

When Sam returned a few moments later he had Gervaise with him as well as Hemmingway Hughes. He shut the door carefully behind him and said to Fink-Drummond:

'You've met my father-in-law. He knows all about this comet business, and I told Hemmingway of it myself the other day. I want them both to know about this proposition of yours.'^J

Fink-Drummond shrugged. 'Just as you wish. But it's most important that as few people as possible should know of our intentions until we're ready to launch our campaign.'

'I quite agree,' said Sam dryly, and, turning to the other two, he added: 'Gentlemen, Mr. Fink-Drummond has just put up to me the following proposition. The Government, as you know, are aware of the approaching comet but they have decided to keep any knowledge of it from the public as long as possible, in order to avoid unnecessary panic. Mr. Fink-Drummond has suggested to me that I should finance him, to the tune of £100,000, to promote that panic, in order that he may force a General Election and get back to power himself on a wave of national hysteria. In return, he offers me certain very large contracts, for steel to be used in dug-outs and so on, which his Government would order directly he became Prime Minister.'

'But such a thing is impossible!' exclaimed Gervaise.

'Not at all,' Fink-Drummond replied smoothly. 'If the Press campaign is handled properly, I should say the odds are a good five to one upon my being Premier by the second week in June.'

'I was not referring to the possibilities of your unscrupulous scheme, sir,' Gervaise snapped, 'but to the impossibility of my son-in-law soiling his hands with such business.'

'Thank you.' said Sam. 'I was quite sure that was the way you would feel and it's the way I feel myself.'

Fink-Drummond drew himself up. 'I can only excuse Mr. Stapleton's ill-considered expressions on the grounds that, having lived here buried in the country for so long, he can have no understanding of the methods people like myself are sometimes compelled to use to bring about political necessities. Please be good enough to order my car.'

'I haven't finished yet.' Sam held up his hand. 'Mr. Fink-Drummond has also informed me that, if I refuse him the financial assistance that he seeks, he will endeavour to secure it elsewhere, and I have no doubt whatsoever that he will be able to do so, if not from British, then from foreign financiers.'

'But listen, now,' Hemmingway Hughes cut in, 'surely Mr. Fink-Drummond can't have fully considered the sort of situation which he proposes to bring about. For one thing, the stock markets will slump to zero directly he gets his Press campaign going.'

'What of it?' said Fink-Drummond coldly. 'Those of us who are in the know should all be able to pick up a fortune.'

Gervaise frowned. 'You do not seem to consider the misery

that such a slump might bring to thousands of small investors.'

'My dear sir,' Fink-Drummond turned towards him, 'it is quite clear that you know little of high finance. Small people make or lose money every day, but that is no concern of the professionals who control the markets.'

'But that's only the start of it,' Hemmingway Hughes cut in again. 'To put this thing over, you'd have to make people believe that their lives were in danger. There would be the most frightful panics, demonstrations, riots. You might throw the whole country into a state of anarchy.'

'There would naturally be a certain amount of trouble,' Fink-Drummond conceded, 'but we should proclaim martial law and with a good man at the War Office, we should soon get the unruly elements under.'

'What?' exclaimed Sam. 'You actually mean that to serve your own ambitions you're prepared to plunge the country into such a state of strife that there will be street-fighting and the troops will be called out to fire upon our own people? I've always known you were pretty unscrupulous, but this . . .'

'That's quite enough,' snapped Fink-Drummond. His face dark with rage, he took a quick step towards the door. 'You're behaving like a fool and later you'll regret it. Kindly send for my car.'

'One moment,' Gervaise said quietly. 'Since Mr. Fink-Drummond appears determined to go through with his plans, with or without your assistance, Sam, I think it would be as well to discuss the matter further. We all seem to have got a. little heated and I was surprised into a breach of good taste myself only a moment ago. To calm ourselves I suggest that we should drink a glass of wine together before we say anything more. I'll go and get a bottle.'

'Let me, sir,' Hemmingway offered.

'No, no, I can manage,' Gervaise replied. 'But please, all of you, remain here. I don't want this affair to reach the ears of any other members of the party.'

As Gervaise left the room it was on the tip of Sam's tongue to say that he did not think further discussion could serve any useful purpose, but as he had already conceived a great respect for his father-in-law's wisdom he remained silent.

When Gervaise returned he was carrying four full tumblers of champagne on a tray, which he offered first to Fink-Drummond.

The ex-Cabinet Minister took the nearest glass and smiled again. 'Let me congratulate you, Mr. Stapleton, on your good sense in suggesting that Sam should reconsider my proposition. He's a hot-headed fellow but I feel sure that when he thinks the matter over he will see reason. As he admits himself I could easily get the money elsewhere, but I would prefer to work with Sam because I know that I can trust him.'

Sam shrugged. 'Oh, if I came into this, you could trust me all right; but I'm not coming into it.'

'But why, my dear fellow? We've done many other deals together and some which, I think you will agree, certain people who know little of the inner workings of big business might, quite unjustifiably, consider questionable.'

'That's true. But I've done nothing that my competitors, who do understand such things, would not willingly have done, and for that reason I am not the least ashamed of our dealings. Big business, plus politics, plus finance, has its own code of laws and I've never gone outside them; but this is different, because it affects the happiness of the whole nation.'

'We all see that, Sam,' Gervaise reasoned mildly. 'But if Mr. Fink-Drummond is determined to do this thing, surely it's better for you to go into it with him than to permit somebody else to take it on who might prove—well, shall we say, much less scrupulous. Anyhow, here's your health once again!'

Sam looked at his father-in-law in surprise. It came as quite a shock to him that anyone so upright as Gervaise Stapleton should countenance his agreeing to Fink-Drummond's suggestion on any terms whatsoever; but he lifted his glass with the rest and they all drank the proposed toast.

'I don't like it,' Hemmingway Hughes exclaimed suddenly. 'I'm damned if I do! High finance may have its own code, as Sam says, but this is different. Why, even the armament racketeers don't go to the length of fermenting trouble which may cause bloodshed among their own people. Honestly, Sam, I wouldn't touch this thing with a barge-pole.'

'I've never had the least intention of doing so,' Sam said firmly.

'Perhaps you're right.' Gervaise set down his glass on a nearby table. 'It's difficult for me to express an opinion because I entirely lack experience in such matters, but I've always understood that some very queer things occur behind the scenes in politics.'

'They do,' Sam agreed, 'but there's a limit, and I should have thought anyone could see the misery that would be caused to countless innocent people if Fink-Drummond goes through with his scheme to unseat the Government.'

'I should be able to form a better judgment on that if Mr. Fink-Drummond would be kind enough to explain his plans to me in some detail.'

'By all means.' Fink-Drummond took another drink from his glass, straightened himself up and began to outline his proposed campaign. Rumours must be set going at once, he explained. Ten days should be sufficient for him to get his following in the House together. They would then launch a huge Press attack on the Government for having concealed the approaching danger.

Having got so far, Fink-Drummond passed a hand over his forehead as though to collect his thoughts. He then went on to speak of various measures that would get the public behind him and of special lines which his principal supporters would be instructed to follow. By that time he had gone deadly white and Sam noticed that he was slurring his words a little.

For another moment Fink-Drummond continued to speak but his words came with difficulty and it was clear that something was wrong with him. He broke off abruptly, exclaimed 'Sorry, I—I'm feeling ill,' and began to mop his face with his handkerchief.

Suddenly his eyes bulged, he sagged a little, rocked from side to side, choked and collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Believing that he was suffering from a fit, Sam ran to him and, kneeling down, undid his collar. Hemmingway Hughes moved forward, too, but towards the desk against which Fink-Drummond had been leaning. He picked up the ex-Cabinet Minister's half-empty glass and sniffed it.

Gervaise Stapleton's voice rang out like the crack of a whip. 'Put that glass down!'

Hemmingway turned to stare at him, and exclaimed : 'Good God! I thought as much.'

Fink-Drummond was now lying stiff and still upon the carpet. With a look of horror on his face, Sam glanced first at Hemmingway and then at his father-in-law. 'Heavens, man!' he cried. 'You'll swing for this. You've poisoned him!'

A Plot to Save the Nation

'Yes,' Gervaise admitted quietly, 'I poisoned him.' There was a look of cairn satisfaction on his aristocratic features and with one hand he smoothed back his fine crop of white, slightly wavy hair.

Sam jumped up from beside Fink-Drummond's still body. 'But hang it, man! You don't seem to realise what you've done. We can't conceal this thing—we'll have to call in the police.'

Hemmingway Hughes stepped towards the door. 'We must get a doctor—a stomach pump. There may be a chance of saving him yet.'

'That's it,' cried Sam, 'hurry! In the meantime, we'll try and think up some story to get my father-in-law out of this. If we keep our heads, we may be able to persuade them it was suicide.'

Gervaise barred Hemmingway's passage to the door. 'Thanks,' he said. 'It's good of you to be so concerned for me, but we don't require either a doctor or the police.'

'Don't be a fool,' Sam snapped. 'Of course I appreciate your motives. You were kidding us just now when you appeared to be persuading me to listen to his rotten scheme; just giving the poison time to work. You made up your mind from the beginning that the only way to stop the swine sabotaging the whole country was to kill him, didn't you? But that's no reason why you should sacrifice your own neck, if we can save it.'

'You're right about my motive, Sam,' Gervaise smiled, 'but I've no intention whatever of sacrificing myself.'

'If we can't get a doctor to pull him round, or fix a suicide story, you'll have to stand your trial for murder.'

'Not at all. It's true that I poisoned him but he's not going to die.'

Sam frowned. 'Then, why the devil didn't you say. so?'

'You didn't give me much chance.' Extending his left hand, Gervaise pointed to the little finger upon which there was a large, old-fashioned ring. 'You see that? I bought it in Florence many years ago. There was still one man living then, a descendant of the old alchemists, who possessed the secret of some of the Medici poisons. The ring is hollow and he sold it to me with four little pills in it. The pills consist of a poison that is tasteless and odourless when served in wine. Two pills will cause death, while one will bring about a state of catalepsy within five minutes. I only put one pill in this rogue's champagne.'

'Thank God for that! But what do we do now? When he comes round there'll be hell to pay. And I don't see that having put him out for a bit is going to prevent him carrying through his Government-wrecking programme.'

'He won't come round for twenty-four hours at least, and by that time he will find himself a prisoner in the old nursery of this house. It's on the third floor, looks down on the empty stables where no one ever goes these days and has barred windows.'

'By Jove! You are a stout fellow.' Sam grinned at his father-in-law with sudden admiration. 'I take it you mean to keep him a prisoner here until the trouble is over?'

'Until then, or, if my brother is right, until the world comes to an end on June 24th.'

'That's all very well,' remarked Hemmingway. 'It's a grand scheme as far as it goes; but there'll be a terrific hue and cry after he's been missing for a day or two. Ex-Cabinet Ministers aren't given to disappearing without leaving any trace of their whereabouts.'

'I can't help that,' Gervaise declared firmly. 'This man is a danger to the State. It is our duty to protect our fellow-citizens from such people at whatever risk to ourselves. I am prepared to take the whole matter upon my own shoulders if you wish but, if you're willing to co-operate, I shall be grateful for any help you can give me to cover his tracks.'

'Of course,' Sam agreed at once. 'Somehow or other we must think up a plausible reason to account for his sudden disappearance.'

'Could we use his wife in any way?' Hemmingway suggested.

'She sailed yesterday for the States. How about his going off in a private plane to overtake the ship and join her?'

'That's a grand idea,' Sam nodded. 'Then the plane disappears. His wife will radio that she knew nothing of his intentions, but we'll spread a story that he left for urgent private reasons. It will be assumed that something went wrong with the plane and that he was drowned at sea.'

'We can't keep him a prisoner for ever, though.'

'No, and he'll sue the lot of us for conspiracy directly we let him out. Just think what a scandal there'll be; and the case will cost us thousands. We may even be sent to prison ourselves for kidnapping.'

'We need not worry about that till the end of June,' Gervaise reminded them grimly. 'And, if the world is still in existence then, I'm prepared to face any prosecution that may result from this business.'

Hemmingway's shrewd eyes were veiled for a moment by the lowering of his lazy eyelids. 'There won't be any prosecution. Fink-Drummond would never dare to bring one. We'd tell the whole story in court and show that none of us had benefited personally in any way by his disappearance. We might be fined a farthing damages but he'd be hounded out of the country. Let's get on with the job and think of a man we can trust who's got a plane. We ought to fake his departure this evening.'

'Rupert Brand will do that for us,' said Sam. 'I'm sure we can rely on him and he's got a big private plane at his place down at Cobham. He'll have to disappear, too, for the time being and you, Hemmingway, must arrange to get the story of their sudden departure in tomorrow's papers.'

'That's easy. I can fix it through the usual channels we tap for special business, without anyone being the wiser.'

Gervaise pushed a cushion under Fink-Drummond's head, and said: 'We'd better get back to the others now. They must be wondering what on earth has happened to us. I'll lock this door and attend to our prisoner myself when all the guests and hired staff have gone. I can leave the rest to you two, I take it?'

Sam nodded. 'I'll tackle Rupert and he and Hemmingway can make all the other arrangements between them. If there were anything I could do that they can't, I'd put off my honeymoon; but, as it is ...'

'My dear fellow, you mustn't dream of such a thing.' Gervaise patted him kindly on the shoulder and the three men left the room together.

In the hall Sam paused. 'You'd better find Rupert. Hemmingway, and bring him out here. If I go back into the drawing-room, I shall be surrounded by the crowd.'

As Hemmingway hurried off, Lavina appeared, with Margery beside her. 'Why, there you are!' she exclaimed, as she saw Sam and her father. 'Everybody's been wondering wherever you two had got to.'

Gervaise smiled. 'We've been having a little private celebration. I'm sorry to have robbed you of Sam but you see it's a new and very pleasant experience for me to have a son.'

She kissed him quickly. 'It makes me very happy that you like each other, darling. I'm just going up to change.'

'You'd better go up and change, too,' Margery admonished Sam. 'You mustn't keep the bride waiting.'

Sam gave her an amiable grin. 'It won't take me as long as it will Lavina, but I'll be up in a minute.'

The two girls had just disappeared round the bend of the stairs when Hemmingway returned with Rupert Brand.

'Listen, Rupert,' Sam plunged in right away, 'I'm going to ask you to do something pretty big for us. You may think us crazy but we want you to take that private plane of yours up tonight and disappear in it for six or seven weeks.'

The devil you do!' exclaimed Rupert. 'To put it mildly, that's a most extraordinary request.'

'We're in an extraordinary situation and we're counting on you to help us. It's a matter which may affect the welfare of the whole nation. I really mean that.'

'Well, if you put it that way. Is this M.I.5, or something?'

'No. The three of us are acting absolutely unofficially. In fact, we're even risking prosecution for conspiracy and, later on, it's possible that you might be called on to answer some pretty tricky questions. But Hemmingway will give you the details and I think when you hear them you'll agree that this job has simply got to be done. I must go up and change now, and all I can add is that I do beg you to give us your assistance.'

Rupert brushed up his small, fair Gtiardee moustache with the knuckle of his first finger. 'Well, it's going to be hellishly inconvenient—and there's Conchita to be thought of; but I'm game to listen to anything Hemmingway's got to say.'

'Right,' said Hemmingway. 'Let's go out into the garden where we can't be overheard.'

Gervaise nodded. 'That would be best. I'll go back and look after our guests while you change, Sam.'

As they strolled up and down the newly mown lawn in the May sunshine, Hemmingway gave Rupert particulars of what had happened.

When Hemmingway had done, Rupert said slowly: 'I see the necessity for covering the disappearance of that swine, Fink-Drummond, all right. But there are a lot of snags to doing it the way you suggest.'

'Let's hear them.'

'Well, to start with, there's Conchita. We'd arranged to be married on the first of June. And to ask me to postpone our wedding is pretty tough on both of us.'

'That certainly is a nasty one,' Hemmingway agreed, 'but it's a purely personal matter and we're asking you to make this big sacrifice in the service of your country.'

Rupert grunted angrily. 'Damn it, man, you don't have to tell me that!'

'What I'm really concerned about,' Hemmingway went on smoothly, 'is how you're fixed officially. If you're committed to the Service in any way, you couldn't just flit off into the blue without obtaining leave. To do so would create immediate suspicion that the whole job was phony.'

'Oh, you needn't worry about that. I resigned from the Coldstream six months ago, so I'm my own boss these days. Of course, there's my job with the Akers Wentworth people. I'm testing the new Akers "Eagle" fighter, but there's nothing to prevent my taking on a private engagement to fly a man like Fink-Drummond out to catch a ship off the west coast of Ireland. If we left tonight, I should normally be back tomorrow morning and, if I failed to return, the assumption would be that the plane had crashed and we'd both been drowned at sea. That would be just too bad. But there's nothing that any-: body could do about it.'

'Well, that's exactly what I want. And it takes a whale of a load off my mind to know you're free to do it.'

'That's all damned fine! But what about Conchita?'

Hemmingway considered for a moment. 'The best thing we can do is to call her in on this, and see what she's got to say herself. Let's go and get her.'

They turned back and walked quickly up the slope to the french windows of the long drawing-room on the south side of the house. Conchita was talking to some people by the buffet, but Rupert succeeded in getting her away, and, once the three of them were out in the garden, Hemmingway told all over again the story of Fink-Drummond's activities.

'I refuse to be separated from Rupert for all that time,' she said, when Hemmingway had finished. 'You see, for the first time in my life I'm really in love, and I couldn't bear the thought of being parted from him even for a week.'

Hemmingway shot her an anxious look. 'I know we're asking an incredibly hard thing of you, but there's so much at stake, and none of us know an airman we could trust with such an important secret, except Rupert.'

Her generous mouth twitched with amusement. 'I do understand how much is at stake, so therefore he shall go—but I intend to go with him.'

'Would you?' exclaimed Rupert, his face lighting up.

'Why not, darling? Do you not think it would be rather fun for us to elope?'

'By love! And tonight, as ever was.'

'Tonight, my sweet. We will pass out of this so stupid social world, and go into hiding together for just as long as you like.'

Hemmingway smiled at her. 'Well, now, isn't that just splendid!'

'It'll be the most glorious adventure of my life,' Rupert cried, 'and I've had a few already, But we're not out of the wood yet, by a long chalk. Where are we going to on this honeymoon of ours?'

'Anywhere you like,' Hemmingway said airily.

'That's not so easy. Surely you realise that planes are labelled and numbered, just like cars, these days; and my big beauty is a special model which plenty of air people would recognise on sight. We've got to land somewhere; and, whatever airport we chose, our landing would be reported. It would be known jn England a few hours later, and that would upset the entire apple-cart.'

'Let me solve this difficulty,' Conchita suggested. 'Why should we not fly to my old home in Spain? It is an estate of many thousand acres, in La Mancha. My house-servants were loyal to me in the Revolution, and, even if they wished to talk, who could they talk to when the nearest city is Ciudad Real, fifty miles away? The house is in what you call here the back of beyond. We have no neighbours, only little peasant villages scattered over the Great Plain.'

'That's a grand idea,' Rupert agreed, 'as long as no officious person sees us landing.'

She laughed. 'My dear one, the peasantry are so ignorant that they're only just learning to read. How could they possibly know one aeroplane from another, even if they saw it? But few of them will do so, if we land at dawn. And then we will lock the plane away out of sight in one of the great barns.'

'It sounds good to me,' Hemmingway admitted. 'But, wait a minute! If it's a land-plane it couldn't come down on the sea; so you'd never have used it for taking Fink-Drummond to catch a liner. The air reporters will spot that as soon as the story breaks.'

'Fortunately, we're all right there. She's an amphibian, so we could come down equally well on land or water.'

'How about the distance, though? It's clear from what you said just now that to land at any place en route would give the Whole game away. Can you make it in one hop?'

'It's under a thousand miles, and, fuelled to capacity, my new bus could cover three times that distance.'

'How long will it take you to get there?'

'About five hours.'

'Fine. I reckon that's a little longer than you'd need to overtake the Falconia, but not enough to matter. If you leave at one, you'd be certain of having the morning light to land by.'

'Yes, and I'd need that to spot the ship. It's important, too, that I should pass the Spanish military aerodromes while it's still dark; otherwise they might send up a plane to challenge me. I hope they haven't built a drome anywhere near your place, Conchita?'

'No. I am sure I should know of it if they had.'

'That's O.K., then, as I shall fly very high until we have to land.'

■Right.' Hemmingway nodded. 'Now, this is the drill. You go straight home from here, Rupert, get your plane ready, and tell your mechanics you're flying Fink-Drummond out to catch the Falconia off the west coast of Ireland. You're leaving at one o'clock, but you don't want to keep them up once the plane is ready. Say you're taking your fiancee with you just for the trip, and that you expect to be back at—well, whatever you work out to be the normal hour tomorrow morning.

Til take Conchita back to London in my car. She must pack and tell her maids the same story. But, for goodness' sake, Conchita, don't take a lot of luggage, because you're only supposed to be staying up all night. It's hard to ask you to leave most of your things behind, but, strictly speaking, you shouldn't set off with much more than your beauty-box.'

That I understand,' she replied gravely. 'But, as I am flying to my own home, I have no need to do so. For the simple life that we shall lead I have plenty of clothes out there.'

'Good. Then I want you to order a car from Daimler Hire to pick you up at midnight. You must make a special point of insisting that they supply you one which has blinds. Directly you get in the car pull them down, and tell the man to drive to Bryanston Square. You'll find me waiting by the garden railings opposite No. 102. That's Fink-Drummond's house. Luckily, I'm about his height, and dark. I shall be carrying a big suitcase as though for a journey, wearing an overcoat with a fur collar pulled up round my face, and a gangster hat right down over my eyes.

'Directly you drive up in the car I shall jump into it, taking care that the chauffeur doesn't see my face. You will then tell him to drive us down to Rupert's place at Cobham. When we arrive I shall get out with my bag and walk round the side of the house. You'll pay the man off, and tell him to drive back to London. Then ring the front door bell, and when Rupert's man answers it say to him, "Would you tell Captain Brand that we've arrived, and that Mr. Fink-Drummond is so anxious to get off that he's gone straight round to the plane."

'Rupert will be lurking in the lounge listening for your arrival. Directly he hears the butler go to open the front door he will come out into the hall dressed all ready for his flight. He should hear what you say to his man about Fink-Drummond being in such a hurry to get off, and greet you at once with the words: "In that case it's not much good my offering you a drink." He'll then join you on the doorsteps, say good night to his man, and walk with you round to the hangar.

'I shall be there to give a hand with the plane, if necessary, and to see you off with my blessing. After which I'll have to do a cross-country walk of six or seven miles into Epsom, knock up a garage there, and hire a car to take me back to London. Is that all clear?'

The others agreed that it was, and he went on:

'Grand. Now, let's see how things will pan out from there on. I can fix it this evening that a small news paragraph appears in one or two of the leading morning papers, saying that, for urgent private reasons, Fink-Drummond has left England by plane to join his wife, who is on the S.S. Falconia, two days out, bound for New York. The midday editions of the evening papers will carry a more prominent story: "Ex-Cabinet Minister's dash to join his wife on outward-bound Atlantic liner. Famous airman, Captain Brand, engaged at short notice to fly him out. Brand takes beautiful fiancee with him as passenger on trip."

'By midday your people, Rupert, will be getting really worried about your not having returned. They'll 'phone the Air Ministry and the balloon will go up. The late editions of the evening papers will carry a headline story: "Ex-Cabinet Minister, ace airman, and fiancee reported lost over Atlantic."

'The Falconia will radio home that she is keeping a constant look-out, but has seen nothing of you. In the following mornings papers there will be a real hullabaloo, and I'm sorry to say we'll have to cost the country a whole packet of money sending up planes to look for you; but, of course, without result. After a day or two the excitement will die down, and it will be believed that all three of you have been drowned at sea.

'If any of Fink-Drummond's relatives feel that there is something queer about his sudden departure, and start to make inquiries, this what they will learn. That he was last seen at Sam's wedding here, today. Then ...'

'Wait a minute, though,' Rupert interrupted. 'How about the chauffeur in the car that brought him down? His man is bound to wonder what's happened when he fails to leave with the other guests.'

'Say! I'm glad you thought of that. I must fix it. I'll have a message sent him, when people start to go, that he's to drive home empty, as his chief is returning to London with the Mar-chesa del Serilla. That will tie up nicely with the rest of the story later on.

'Getting back to the investigation. The chauffeur will tell Fink-Drummond's relatives that he left here with Conchita. For a few hours Fink-Drummond disappears entirely, and no one will ever be able to find out what he did during that time, but that dovetails with this mysterious personal business on which it Was so urgent that he should see his wife. The Daimler people will say that Conchita hired one of their cars to collect her at midnight, and specially insisted that the car should have blinds.

'Their man will tell his story: that, having picked her up, she pulled down the blinds in the car, and he then drove her to Bryanston Square, where they picked up a man whose face he did not see; but whose description will roughly tally with that of Fink-Drummond. And this man was carrying a large suitcase, as though for a journey. The couple were then driven down to Captain Brand's place at Cobham, where the lady paid the car off.

'Conchita's maid, when questioned, will say that her mistress arrived back from Sam's wedding, and said that Captain Brand was going to take her on a night-flying trip out over the Atlantic with Mr. Fink-Drummond.

'Rupert's mechanics will tell their story of how he returned from Sam's wedding to supervise their getting his plane ready for a special trip because he was going to fly Fink-Drummond to join his wife that night.

'And Rupert's butler will conclude the chain by informing inquirers how Conchita arrived at the house about one in the morning with Fink-Drummond, and told Rupert, in his presence, that Fink-Drummond was in such a hurry to get off that he had gone straight round to the hangar. The plane took off a few minutes later, and that is that,'

'Marvellous!' purred Conchita. 'You seem to have thought of everything; except for one small point. What if he has some important dinner tonight, a speech to make, or a banquet to attend? Will they not start to search for him prematurely when he does not return to his house or send any message?'

'That certainly is a snag to be got over. How would it be if Rupert telephoned Fink-Drummond's secretary to cancel all his engagements because urgent business made it necessary for him to spend the late afternoon in the City; and, after that, his plans were so uncertain that he might not be able to get back tonight? The inference afterwards would be that he'd made up his mind to join his wife at the last moment, returned to Bryanston Square, let himself in, and packed his own bag as he was in too much of a hurry to ring for any of the servants.'

Rupert shook his head. 'The part about my telephoning's all right, but not your inference about his returning to pack his bag. Otherwise one of his bags with his brushes, shaving tackle, and so on, would be missing from the house; and we can't just wish them into vanishing into thin air.'

'Sure, sure.' Hemmingway passed a hand over his big forehead. 'Yes, we must better that. I'll tell you. When you 'phone, speak to his butler. That's less risky than the secretary, who might start asking awkward questions. Tell the butler to pack him a bag for a couple of nights away from home, then to take it to Grosvenor House, check it into the cloakroom there, and say that the Marchesa del Serilla will call for it.'

'Do you think the butler would take such instructions from me without any confirmation from his master?'

'You've been to Fink-Drummond's house, haven't you?'

'Yes. I've lunched there two or three times.'

'That'll be all right, then. It's not like asking him to let a lot °f jewels or important papers out of his keeping, and he must know that you and Conchita are not the sort of people who'd enter into an elaborate plot to steal a week-end suitcase.'

'That's true.'

'Then Conchita will collect the bag from Grosvenor House around midnight, and instead of picking me up in Bryanston Square I'll be waiting on that quiet corner behind Grosvenor House where Park Street joins Mount Street.'

That is much better,' Conchita conceded, 'except that every, one will think he ran away with me.'

Rupert laughed and squeezed her arm. 'Not as it's my plane you're both going in, my sweet. They'll just believe that, as I was flying him out and you were in the secret, you helped him in his trouble by running him around to places in your car and picking up his things for him so that nobody should know, outside us three, what sort of funny business he was occupied on or whom he saw during the evening, before he made his get-away.'

Hemmingway gave a sigh of relief. 'Well, thank goodness we've sorted that. I'm most terribly grateful to you both, and I know Sam will be, too.'

'Not a bit of it,' Rupert smiled. 'Let's go and drink the old boy's health in another glass of wine, before the happy couple depart for their honeymoon.'

'I'll have a drink with you later. As best man, it's up to me to see they've got all their things together before they go.'

Conchita and Rupert went back arm-in-arm through the french windows into the drawing-room, while Hemmingway entered the front door. For a few moments he was busy giving final instructions and seeing the pile of luggage loaded on to the car. Then Sam came downstairs and looked across at him

inquiringly.

Hemmingway nodded. 'It's all fixed.'

'Good work,' Sam smiled. 'But if there's any trouble, you must cable me and I'll return at once to take responsibility.'

'Don't worry. I won't have to.'

They talked together for a few moments about business arrangements during Sam's absence, but broke off as Lavina and Margery came downstairs.

'I think I've got all your things,' Hemmingway said to Lavina, 'but you might just check them up, I know Sam's stuff but I'm not so used to yours.'

'Of course I will.' She went out with him on to the porch and together they ran over her pieces of luggage in the waiting car.

Margery, meanwhile, had turned in the other direction and was talking to Sam. From where they stood they were out of earshot of Hemmingway and Lavina but could see them just outside the open doorway.

At that moment Hemmingway held out his hand to Lavina and said: 'Well, I'll say good-bye now, before the crush surrounds you. Happy honeymoon.'

She looked up into those strange, wise eyes of his again and once more she had that sensation of vague fear. But Lavina was a courageous person and believed that the best way to conquer fear of anything was to face it boldly. This was fear of herself; not fear of him. And she knew that, since they would be together so much in the future, she must root it out now, once and for all.

To prove herself she smiled back into his eyes and said: 'Thanks so much for all you've done today, but isn't it usual for the best man to kiss the bride?'

'Not in the States, and I'm half American,' he laughed. 'I'm a poor hand at kissing people, too, unless I really mean it; and, if I did that, I'm afraid I'd make an awful hash of your makeup!'

It was said with such charming lightness that it was quite impossible for Lavina to take offence, but she was determined not to be side-tracked so she answered gaily: 'All right, then, I'll kiss you.' And, standing on tiptoe for a second, she gave him a swift kiss on the cheek.

Sam and Margery had witnessed the little scene from the distance. As he turned towards her to say something he saw that her face was strained and intent.

'May I give you a piece of advice?' she asked suddenly.

'Why, yes.' He lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

'Sack that secretary of yours.'

'Sack Hemmingway! Good Lord, why?'

'You'd better, unless you want your marriage broken up. He's young, extraordinarily attractive and the type that doesn't fall easily for women but, when they do, fall hard—and I know Lavina. All her life she's battened on admiration. She'll never rest until she's made him as mad about her as all the other men she's ever known for any length of time.'

'Margery!' Sam was really shocked. 'How can you can say such a frightful thing about your own sister?'

Suddenly Margery turned away and burst into a violent fit of tears.

Sam cast an anxious glance towards the drawing-room, flung an arm round the weeping girl's shoulders and pushed her into the cloakroom nearby; pulling the door to behind them.

'For God's sake, don't make a scene!' he said angrily. 'Stop crying, now. Stop it! Or your tears will mess up your face.'

With an effort Margery checked her sobbing, dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and, walking over to the mirror, pulled out her compact to make good the traces of tears left on her cheeks.

Sam was furious and he let himself go. 'You must be downright wicked to say such a thing to me on my wedding-day. Hemmingway's my best man and my best friend. I'd trust him anywhere with anything, and I'd trust Lavina to the limit, too. It's just your rotten, filthy imagination.'

She turned then, and faced him calmly. 'I'm sorry, Sam. Terribly sorry. I should never have said that but I did believe it at the time. It was something in their attitude to each other that I can't explain, and my wicked jealousy, I suppose. You see, Lavina's always had everything—everything I've ever wanted; even the rather second-rate boy-friends, whom she couldn't be bothered with but I would so gladly have had, all fell for her.'

Sam stared at her and realised for the first time that she was quite young, not more than twenty-six, and definitely good-looking. Not beautiful like Lavina, but very attractive in her own way; which must have made it all the harder for her that she had had to play the drudge's part while Lavina had all the fun.

Suddenly overwhelmed with a great wave of pity he put his arms round her and kissed her. 'You poor kid,' he said. 'I'm sure you didn't mean it. Let's never think of it again.'

Inside Information

The day after Sam and Lavina were married life at Stapleton Court resumed its uneventful routine. The big reception rooms were closed once more; the caterers had removed all traces of the wedding feast. Gervaise and his elder daughter, Margery, were once again in sole possession of the derelict Georgian mansion; unless one counted an entirely new and disturbing factor which had suddenly entered their quiet lives—the prisoner in the nursery.

After the departure of the wedding guests Gervaise had called in Derek Burroughs, told him of the events which had led up to the decision that Fink-Drummond must be kept a prisoner of the next few weeks and secured his assistance in putting the ex-Cabinet Minister to bed.

It was not until five o'clock the following afternoon that Fink-Drummond came out of his cataleptic state but as soon as he had recovered sufficiently to think and talk coherently he created a very pretty scene.

Gervaise had been sitting in the room reading a book while he waited for his prisoner to come round and he explained at once that, although he disliked Mr. Fink-Drummond very much indeed, he felt himself compelled, in the interests of national safety, to offer him his hospitality for some time to come. Neither arguments nor threats could induce him to take a refusal and he backed up his statement by producing an antiquated revolver that had seen service in the Boer War.

Fink-Drummond raged and stormed. He declared that all the forces of the law should be brought into operation the second he was free; that he would sue the lot of them for conspiracy and forcible detention and that they should see the inside of a prison.

Gervaise pointed out that, if the world came to an end on June 24th, none of them would have to bother themselves on that score. And, on the other hand, if it did not, Mr. Fink-Drummond might possibly be induced to reconsider his decision when he was restored to freedom as, whatever penalties the Law might award against those who had detained him, prosecution and the attendant publicity could only result in his being hounded out of the country.

This gave Fink-Drummond furiously to think and Gervaise left him still thinking; although he took care to shoot the two bolts which he had fixed on the outside of the door that morning, before going downstairs to drink a glass of old Madeira in his comfortable library.

The nursery suite consisted of day-nursery, night-nursery and bathroom. The windows of all three were barred and looked out upon the deserted stable-yard, which was well away from the tradesmen's entrance; so Gervaise was reasonably confident that his prisoner could not escape providing a watchful eye was kept upon him in case he started taking up the floorboards in order to break out through the ceiling below, or something of that kind.

There was, however, one possible danger. Fink-Drummond had to be fed and, although Gervaise intended to take every possible precaution when taking his food to him, in so long a period as six weeks the prisoner might well think of some subtle way in which to surprise, attack and overcome his gaoler. If that occurred since Margery was the only other person in the house, Fink-Drummond would have a free field for escape. In less than a couple of hours he would be back in London, beyond all possible hope of recapture, and free to develop his own schemes which might bring about untold misery and disaster.

Having considered this problem, Gervaise decided to call in Derek as a permanent Assistant Gaoler and, after dinner that evening, he strolled over to see his neighbour.

Derek was willing enough to co-operate but his farm and hothouses were his livelihood and at such a season it would have caused him grievous loss to abandon them permanently. Had he been convinced that the end of the world was really approaching, he would have done so, but he did not believe in the predicted catastrophe for one moment.

However, he put forward a suggestion. Gervaise's nephew, Roy, was back in London doing nothing, and so hard-up that he could not do it with any enjoyment. Couldn't he be persuaded to come down to stay and help his uncle look after the prisoner?

Gervaise considered for a moment. 'That might serve us for a week or so, but by the end of that time I fear Roy would be so bored with the quiet life he would have to lead that he'd refuse to stick it any longer. Besides—I can be quite frank with you, Derek—although I don't suggest that he's a drunkard, Roy likes his liquor and from that point of view I'm afraid he's too expensive a guest for me to entertain for such a period.'

'I think we can get over that,' Derek smiled. 'As long as he's with you each time you take a meal up to Fink-Drummond that's all you really want him for.'

'True. The essential thing is that two people should be present whenever his door is unlocked.'

'Then for the rest of the time there's no reason why Roy shouldn't get out and about a bit. He's always liked the country. I'll lend him a horse to ride each morning and there's a golf club nearby at Dorking where 1 could make him a member. He can fish your lake and swim a bit if the weather's decent; so I don't think he'll be too bored.'

'How about the evenings, though?'

'Oh, I'll come over in the evenings to make up a four at Bridge, or take him down to the "George" where he can get a game of billiards. Roy's a lazy, shiftless devil, but he's a most amusing companion so I shouldn't mind looking after him. As for the drink question, I think we're old enough friends for you not to mind my sending you in a case or two of whisky to keep him going while he's in the house.'

'That's very good of you, Derek—very good of you indeed. I think I can manage the whisky, though, providing you're game to take him about so that he's not running me up a bill for a case of Scotch a week.'

'Right. Let's telephone him now, then, shall we?'

They got on to Oliver for Roy's address and managed to locate him at a small Bloomsbury hotel. It was impossible to ^explain over the telephone the real reason for his being required at Stapleton Court, but Roy's lack of funds brought him to the quick decision that a week or so in the country ^would be a welcome economy at the moment. With his usual optimism he was now considering Lavina's half-promise, that Sam might get him a job, as a certainty, so he had no intention whatever of looking for anything else in the meantime and had to hang out somehow until Sir Samuel and Lady Curry returned from their honeymoon. He therefore accepted his uncle's invitation at once and said that he would be down for lunch the following day.

It was so long since the nursery suite at Stapleton Court had been occupied that, apart from the bed which Gervaise and Derek had made up for Fink-Drummond, all the furniture was so dusty one could write one's name on it; so next morning Margery set about giving the rooms a thorough spring-cleaning.

Fink-Drummond had to resign himself to being locked in the bathroom meanwhile, but he did not protest as it was clear that his gaolers were doing their best to make him comfortable. Gervaise brought him up a supply of books in the afternoon and at the same time produced Roy, who had been told over luncheon of the real reason he had been summoned to the country.

Derek came in that evening and put up various suggestions for Roy's entertainment during his stay and the ne'er-do-well accepted the situation quite cheerfully; in fact, he found it rather novel and amusing, as his duties consisted of no more than accompanying his uncle up to the prisoner's room three or four times a day.

Fortunately, the weather was good so Roy was able to get out of the house most days for several hours, and as he was an excellent mixer he soon formed a little crowd of cronies with whom he played darts and exchanged bawdy stories at the 'local', on such evenings as Derek could not drive over and make up a table for Bridge.

The days drifted by, May passing into June quite uneventfully. An occasional postcard came from Lavina and Sam-They were somewhere in the foot-hills of the Pyrenees, staying at small places right off the beaten track and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Hemmingway Hughes' scheme for covering Fink-Brum-' mond's disappearance had worked entirely according to plan-There had been great excitement for a few days. Headlines in the papers, Royal Air Force squadrons fruitlessly searching the grey wastes of the Eastern Atlantic. Then, with amazing rapidity, other news had filled the papers; Fink-Drummond, Rupert Brand and the Marchesa del Serilla were assumed drowned. Beatrice Fink-Drummond bought herself some very light widow's weeds on her arrival in New York and no one but their intimate friends gave them another thought.

It had been agreed that, in the event of Fink-Drummond's escaping, Hemmingway should be informed at once but, apart from occasional storms of abuse which grew less frequent as time wore on, the prisoner gave no trouble; so there had been no reason to ring up St. James's Square. On the 2nd June, however, Hemmingway telephoned to say that he would very much like to have a talk with both Gervaise and Oliver Stapleton; so it was arranged that he and Oliver should motor down and lunch at Stapleton Court the following day.

When Hemmingway arrived he appeared as calm and inscrutable as ever, but after lunch he disclosed the fact that he was extremely worried. The Government had, so far, succeeded in keeping from the public the news that a comet was approaching, but in the three weeks since Sam's wedding a constantly increasing circle of people had become acquainted with the fact. This was already affecting the markets and, as the rumours spread, it was certain that they would soon precipitate a really serious situation. Stocks were not slumping yet, as the general public were still buying, but many of the big financiers were unloading heavily with a view to buying in again at much lower levels during the panic which was certain to ensue directly knowledge of the comet's approach became general. In consequence, it was to be expected that when the small money was exhausted the markets would break and shares plunge headlong.

To protect Sam's interests Hemmingway could only do as ^lhe other big men were doing but he felt that a crisis, all unknown to the public, was rapidly approaching.

The situation abroad was much the same as at home, "emmingway had learned through Foreign Office sources that conversations had been entered into on the subject of the comet With every foreign Government. By mutual consent all controversial problems had been shelved for the time being. This had caused a sudden lessening of international tension and was

c one of the factors which caused the little man to have a renewed feeling of confidence and so more readily support the markets.

The Governments had already reached agreement upon the point that no useful purpose could be gained by allowing the danger to become known prematurely and, with the willing co-operation of their Press chiefs, were exercising a rigid censorship. They were now discussing the problem of mutual aid in the event of the comet's damaging one area of the earth's surface but leaving the others comparatively unaffected.

In fact, since the rulers of the world now took the approaching danger with extreme seriousness, it was rapidly bringing about a spirit of goodwill which had long been lacking from the international situation.

The great majority of the people in the know, however, still assumed that the comet was composed only of gas and meteorites. They believed that, even if it got drawn into the earth's orbit, it would do no more than cause grave disturbances among the terrified masses; which would quickly subside once it had disintegrated and its great shower of meteorites had embedded themselves in the earth.

That many of the meteorites would cause considerable destruction was unquestioned; but, according to Hemmingway, the Governments at home and abroad were allaying their own fears by the supposition that no more havoc would be caused through this heavenly bombardment than might be expected from an intensive but brief aerial attack brought about by the major nations going to war with each other. In view of the fact that for some years past they had all been prepared to face intensive bombing for days, if not weeks and months, they were not unduly perturbed at the thought of showers of meteorites descending for an hour or two.

Many buildings would be wrecked, large casualties were to be anticipated, their heaviness depending upon the size of the meteorites. If some of these were as large as the largest which had struck the earth in historic times, the shock of each might devastate the country for miles around the spot where they fell. But there seemed good reason to suppose that, once the ordeal was over the dead would be buried, the buildings would be erected again and life go on much as before.

Numerous astronomers of various nationalities were of Oliver Stapleton's opinion that the comet was a solid one and the probability was that it would shatter the earth altogether; but, as 'hope springs eternal in the human breast', the majority of the national leaders refused to accept this view, realising perhaps that even if it were correct there was nothing whatsoever that they could do about it.

When lunch was over and they were gathered in the library, Hemmingway, having given his own news, asked Oliver the result of his latest observations; upon which the untidy astronomer lit one of his Burma cheroots, drew upon it, and replied:

'I'm sorry to say I've found no reason whatever to change my opinion. Of course, if the various Governments choose to hide their heads in the sand like ostriches, that is their affair. But the spectroscope does not lie; and there are certain shadings in the analysis of the comet which now convince me absolutely that it is solid. A number of my most distinguished colleagues here and abroad entirely agree with me. A greater number do not do so openly and, in my opinion, are giving their Governments false hope. Their reason for doing so doubtless is that, if they are proved wrong and the world is shattered to bits, there will be no one left to accuse them of being false prophets afterwards; whereas, if they admit that the comet is solid now and it proves not to be so after all, they will have to live on with reputations which have been seriously damaged.'

'Are you quite sure, though, that the thing will be drawn into our orbit?' Derek, who had also been invited to the lunch party, inquired.

'Oh, yes. There's no longer any question about that. The comet's track is so exactly plotted now that we are all agreed that it can't possibly avoid coming well within the sphere of the earth's gravitational influence.'

'And June 24th's the jolly day,' Roy laughed, a little uncertainly, and took the opportunity to help himself to another ration of the old Madeira that Gervaise had got up for the others before lunch. 'What time does the balloon go up, honoured father?'

Oliver's mild blue eyes turned towards his flippant son. '10.55 p.m., my boy. That, of course, is the time at which the comet is actually due to impinge on the North Pacific; but we may well be dead long before then.'

'What'll we have to fear before the crash?' Hemmingway inquired.

'All sorts of unpleasant things. As you probably know, the crust of the earth is thinner, by comparison, than the skin of an orange. Its whole interior is still a molten mass with, we now believe, a solid core at its centre. Directly the comet is near enough for the earth to feel its influence, the centrifugal values of the earth are bound to change. The solid core, if it exists, will respond to the pull of gravity and, instead of continuing to rotate on a constant axis, will revolve on one moving in a increasing spiral following that part of the earth's surface which, as the earth turns, is nearest to the approaching comet. In any case, the mass of molten matter under the earth's crust is bound to be affected, which will cause many volcanoes to become active. There will be terrific eruptions and almost certainly major earthquakes long before the comet hits us.'

'At all events, we may console ourselves with the thought that Britain is well away from the earthquake zones,' Gervaise remarked.

'True,' Oliver nodded, 'but these seismic disturbances will give rise to other serious happenings. Britain is hardly likely to be effected by the first shock but, as the earthquake belt passes from Iceland through the Azores and thence to the more southern of the West Indies, we may anticipate great upheavals under the sea which will cause tidal waves to pile up on both sides of the Atlantic. It is even possible that they might be so vast as to sweep right over Great Britain.'

'Another flood,' interjected Hemmingway.

'Exactly. You may remember the legend of The Lost Atlantis. Most scientists regard that as a myth but during the last century many myths have been proved to be race-memories of actual occurrences. It is said that a great island continent, as large as France and Germany put together, once occupied the centre of the Atlantic and that it was submerged with all its people about 11,500 years ago in one terrible day and night of tempest, earthquake and flood. Such a cataclysm might well have been caused by a comet coming very near the earth, or as some people believe, a comet actually colliding with it,

and it's quite on the cards that a similar fate might overtake us.'

'Personally, I'm quite convinced that the submergence of Atlantis is an historic fact,' Gervaise declared. 'Anyone who has an extensive knowledge of ancient religions can hardly fail to see that. It was the destruction of Atlantis which gave rise to the Biblical account of the Flood and similar stories which are to be found in the literature of all ancient peoples living on both sides of the Atlantic. But, of course, the flood was local, and by far the greater portion of the human race survived.'

'I still can't believe it'll happen,' Derek said suddenly. 'I'm sorry, Oliver, but the whole thing's too fantastic.'

Hemmingway drew slowly on his cigarette and looked across at him. 'L felt that way, too, when I was first told of this business but, knowing as I do how the national leaders of practically every country in the world are reacting. I can't escape the conviction that something pretty frightful is coming to us. It's that which decided me to have this talk with you all today. I wish I'd done it sooner, but I wasn't quite convinced before. Now I am, I want to know what our chances are. The big question is, will the whole earth go to pieces or have we only to face a major catastrophe in which there's a chance for some of us to survive?'

'That none of us can tell until the 24th of June,' Oliver said quietly.

'Then there is a hope that some people may manage to see the party through?'

'Certainly. Although I consider it a very slender one.'

'Still, in that case, it's surely up to us to use every ingenuity we have to provide ourselves with the best possible chance of survival?'

'Yes, that's only reasonable. But such a huge tidal wave as we may expect would sweep everything before it; so I don't think there's much that any of us could do with any real hope of saving ourselves.'

'I'm pretty hot on mountaineering,' Roy grinned. 'If I can raise the cash to get across the Channel, I shall go and sit on top of Mont Blanc.'

'No,' said Gervaise decisively. 'If there's going to be a second Deluge, our best hope is to build another Ark.'

Rumours and a Refuge

'An Ark,' Roy repeated with a grin. 'Uncle Gervaise would make a splendid Noah but he has no son and only one son-in-law. If Derek and I play Ham and Japheth, may we each bring along a girl-friend?'

Derek smiled. Til leave that to you and Hemmingway; but I'm pretty good with animals so I'll superintend the "they marched in two by two" business.'

'Shut up, you idiots!' frowned Margery. 'Can't you see this is serious?'

The other three ignored their flippancy and Oliver inquired: 'What sort of Ark had you in mind, Gervaise?'

The best thing, I suppose, would be to charter a medium-sized, well-built sailing ship. We should then be independent of coal or oil; which it might be impossible to obtain after our first supply had run out if we chartered a steamer. Unfortunately though, I'm in no position to do so myself, because I lack the money.'

'Sam's got plenty. So have I, for that matter,' Hemmingway said quickly, 'and it's my job to do anything I think Sam would wish while he's away. I feel now that we should not delay another hour in taking what steps we can to survive if possible, and Sam will naturally want his wife's people to be in on anything we may decide to do. As he's absent, it's up to us to make some sort of plan, and I'll be responsible for finance, whatever the amount may be.'

'Wouldn't it be better either to buy or build a life-boat?' Margery suggested. 'In a rough sea it would keep afloat longer than any larger craft and be much easier to manage. Besides, you could man a life-boat yourselves, whereas, if we charter a ship, we'd have to take on a crew and in the kind of upheaval that seems likely a crew might give us all sorts of trouble.'

Hemmingway looked at her with fresh interest. 'That's certainly a very sound idea, Miss Stapleton.'

'Margery, please,' she smiled. 'It's rather pointless to be formal with each other if we're going to sink or swim together.'

'Sure, Margery then, and I'm all for a life-boat. We'd get one of the very latest type, too, like they're making now in the States. It's not an ordinary boat at all, but a huge round ball with a platform circling its outside, just as the rings encircle the planet Saturn. In a very rough sea the ball can roll to practically any angle but, since it's water-tight once the doors are closed, it can't be swamped; and it can't be sunk except through a collision or being flung on the rocks. Meanwhile, the spherical chamber inside is kept level, however much the outer sphere rocks, by means of a system of gyroscopes.'

'That's right,' Roy added. 'I saw it on the movies in a news film when I was in Singapore.'

'It sounds the very thing, but is there time to import one?' Gervaise objected. 'Today is the 3rd of June, so we have only just over three weeks left to work in.'

Hemmingway stubbed out his cigarette. 'It's too late to ship one over but, if we hustle, I reckon we could build one.'

Oliver looked dubious. 'I don't see how, in such a limited time. Such a device must contain many scientific mechanisms, some of which are certain to be patents. Even if you could get permission, presumably there's no model in Britain from which you could have them copied. I doubt, too, if you could get the parts manufactured here.'

'Plans can be sent by radio, these days,' Margery said quietly.

'Exactly!' Hemmingway threw her another appreciative glance. 'That's what I had in mind. Once I get the cables working I'll soon trace the company that's making these things in the U.S.A., and, whatever it may cost, I'll buy the British rights in their patents. As to manufacture, Sam's factories will rush through the parts, if I say they've got to. The next point is, where'U we build it?'

'Somewhere in Wales,' Derek suggested, 'on the highest hilltop the workmen can get the parts up to.'

'No.' Gervaise shook his grey head. 'If we did that a great wave might roll it over and smash it before it could get properly afloat. It would be much better to construct it on a lakeside and launch it so that it is actually floating when the time of the emergency arrives.'

'Then why not build it on the lake here?' Margery put in.

'Why not?' Hemmingway agreed. 'This place is within easy reach of London for when we have to get out; but it's so shut away that we're unlikely to be interfered with by crowds of terrified people. It's an ideal spot from every point of view.'

'What about the chappies you'll have to send down to build it?' Roy asked. 'When they know what it's for, won't they want to come, too?'

'We ought to take them with us if we can,' Gervaise said at once.

Hemmingway's broad forehead wrinkled. 'I'd like to, but there won't be room. It wouldn't hold more than eight or ten people if we're to take the stores we'd have to carry to keep ourselves going for any length of time. Goodness knows, I'd like to take every man, woman and child in Britain if we could, but I'm afraid the engineers who construct this thing will have to take their chance with the rest when the time comes. To prevent trouble later we'd better not let them know what we're up to. After all, it won't look like any kind of boat, so our best plan would be to say it's some sort of scientific experiment in which Mr. Oliver Stapleton is interested. He'd better come down here to stay, and pretend to superintend things.'

Oliver frowned. 'It's asking a lot of me to leave Greenwich just now. Naturally, I'm intensely interested in all that is taking place at the Observatory.'

'When will the comet become visible to the naked eye?' Derek inquired.

'Not for ten days or more yet. You see, it is approaching along a track which passes within three degrees of the sun so, until the last phase, the sun's glare will make it invisible in daylight except to those using special instruments. At night you should be able to observe it, if the weather is good, from about the 18th, first as a tiny pin-point of light and later as a fiery ball; but, even then, it will only be visible very low in the heavens for a short time, as it passes under the horizon eleven-and-a-half minutes after sunset. My only regret is that so many of us wish to observe the comet at Greenwich each evening now that we have to take our turn and I get much less time at any of the telescopes than I could wish.'

'I'm afraid we couldn't get a telescope anything like the size of those at Greenwich,' Hemmingway smiled, 'but I'm game to buy you the biggest that can be procured in London; so that you could install it down here and have it all to yourself. How would that be?'

'A very generous offer, I'm sure.'

'Not at all. But we need your presence here to give colour to the building of the Ark. If a big telescope is being erected at the same time, that will help a lot in persuading the mechanics the Ark is only some new invention to do with your astronomical research.'

'In that case I'm quite agreeable. As it happens, one of my colleagues died only about ten days ago and he had a very fine telescope in his private observatory. It would take some moving, of course, but if we could buy it off his widow I could get it set up in a steel scaffolding, which would serve for temporary purposes, in the course of two or three days.'

'Good. That's the drill, then. Get in touch with the lady at once. See her this evening if possible and make it a cash transaction. I'll supply the funds and men to start dismantling it first thing tomorrow.'

'How long do you think such a flood would last?' Gervaise inquired, looking across at Oliver.

The astronomer shrugged his sloping shoulders. 'Who can say? If the comet is as big as I fear, there will be no flood but total disruption. If it's a smaller body the Rockies and the Andes should protect us from any great tidal wave it may create in the Pacific. Short of annihilation our danger will be from a wave created by sympathetic eruptions in the central Atlantic. Unless the earth bursts, one can hardly visualise a local disturbance of sufficient magnitude to send out a wave which would wash right over the mountain chains of Britain. It's more likely that although high land would be swept by the first onrush only valleys and low-lying land would be flooded for any length of time. But, even that, would mean the submergence of practically every city and town in the country; and weeks, if not months, before the waters finally drained away.'

'Say we took enough provisions to last us two months then?'

'Yes, that should certainly suffice. In such a local flood we should probably be washed up somewhere within a few days. But our trouble then would be to reach an area which had not been flooded at all. You see, the wave would wash right over all but the highest ground destroying everything in its path.'

'You mean that we might find ourselves marooned on an island for several weeks,' said Hemmingway, 'and, maybe, one where we'd have to rely on such stores as we brought with us?'

'Exactly.'

'How about if the comet caused a permanent rise in the ocean level? Britain would be converted into an archipelago, wouldn't it?'

'That is certainly a possibility.'

'Then we might find ourselves stuck on our particular island for good?'

'Yes, that too might quite well happen.'

'We'd look a pretty lot of fools if we escaped the flood and died of starvation in a stretch of isolated fields two months later, wouldn't we?'

'We could eke out our supplies with roots and fish,' Gervaise interjected.

'Maybe,' agreed Hemmingway. 'In fact, we'll have to chance being able to do that as the storage space of the Ark will be limited. But it seems to me we ought to ensure ourselves against such an emergency by preparing to meet it properly. As far as space permits we ought to take all the things we'd be most likely to need if we were deliberately going off to found a new settlement.'

'Books,' said Gervaise.

'Seeds and roots to ensure ourselves future crops,' said Margery.

'Scientific instruments,' said Oliver.

'Engineer's stores,' said Derek. 'I was at an Engineering College till my father died, so I could give you particulars of the most useful things in that line.'

'Fine,' said Hemmingway. 'Let's make some lists, shall we?' Upon which they spent the next hour jotting down all the less bulky items they could think of which might prove invaluable to them if chanced to be stranded.

When they had done it was agreed that they should divide the labour of ordering the goods and have all accounts rendered to Hemmingway. He then smiled round at the others and said:

'I'd best be going now. It's still only a little after midday in New York, so I'll get busy with my cabling the moment I'm back in London and with any luck we'll have the plans of the new life-boat coming through by radio some time tonight. Whoever the firm is that makes these things, they'll know Sam's good for the money, whatever price they ask.'

Soon afterwards Oliver and Hemmingway returned to London but the following morning the centuries-old peace of Stapleton Court was shattered; and fate had decreed that it should never again be resumed.

A party of surveyors, sent by Hemmingway, arrived with instructions to prospect the lake-shore for the best site in which to lay down a slipway on which the spherical Ark could be built; and later in the day he telephoned to say that, although it had cost Sam a small fortune, he had secured plans of the Ark from the States.

Gangs of workmen then put in an appearance with lorry-loads of rubble, sand, bags of cement and dredging apparatus. On the 5th a huge truck arrived bearing Oliver's new telescope packed in sacking, and other lorries loaded with the tubular steel scaffolding which was to form its temporary support.

Soon the lawn running down to the lake was hardly recognisable. Wooden hutments, dumps of material and deep ruts cut in its grass by the wheels of the heavy lorries all disfigured it; while the roar of concrete mixers, the din of hammering and the shouts of the workmen shattered the stillness of the tree-girt park. Even at night the pandemonium never ceased as the men laboured on under the glare of great arc-lamps, but the work progressed with amazing rapidity.

By June 7th a great concrete platform, the size of a tennis court, had been constructed at one end of the lake and Oliver's telescope had been erected on the higher ground near the house, so that he could now observe the comet again, without interruption, at every favourable opportunity.

Derek, convinced now by the sight of these activities, more than by all the arguments he had heard, that the approaching danger was a real one, had abandoned his own affairs to play the part of Oliver's assistant in superintending the work; a role for which he was much better fitted than the older man owing to his early training as an engineer. His easy manner enabled him to collaborate with the professionals without giving offence and, while he interfered as little as possible, his presence was valuable in that he was able to fend off awkward questions about the true purpose of the constructions on which they were engaged. Margery suggested that she should clear out a bedroom for him and from the 8th he took up his permanent residence at Stapleton Court.

Gervaise continued to be responsible for Fink-Drummond and Roy assisted him as before. The prisoner appeared resigned to his captivity but was curious about the din which now drifted without cessation round to his side of the house. Gervaise refused to satisfy his curiosity but Roy, who on further acquaintance found the ex-Cabinet Minister an extremely interesting person, had formed the habit of sitting with him sometimes and, under pledge of secrecy, saw no harm in giving him particulars of the projected Ark.

Hemmingway now motored down from London every evening to see how the work progressed. He reported that the casting of the curved steel sheeting for the outside of the Ark, its floor and struts had presented no difficulties but he was having trouble with some of the smaller parts of its mechanism as similar objects had never before been manufactured in Britain.

Each night Hemmingway brought the latest news from London. The gradual decline in the markets was accelerating to a steady fall as the small investor, who still knew nothing of the comet, was now suspicious of this slow but definite depreciation in share values, when international relations were infinitely better than they had been for many years.

Yet, underneath the surface, the foreign Governments were by no means so fully agreed as they had been the previous week. Many of them felt that they were no longer justified in concealing the approaching danger from their people, and the heads of religious bodies, who were in the know, were urging them to disclose the facts.

Moreover, where knowledge of the comet had previously been confined to a few score astronomers, national leaders, their advisers and financiers, it had gradually leaked out, so that most well-informed people all over the world now knew a comet was approaching and that there was some risk of its endangering the earth. It was clear, therefore, that the secret could not be kept from the general public much longer, as constantly spreading rumours would do more harm than a plain official statement.

By June 12th it had been decided to adopt half-measures and that the papers should carry the story of the comet without implying that there was any chance of its hitting the earth. Certain sections of the Press were in favour of telling the whole story and appealing to the public to face the danger bravely; but in the world-wide emergency that had arisen they loyally accepted the request of their Governments and the first official news of the comet appeared only as small paragraphs in the evening papers of that date.

The following day many special articles appeared, but mainly upon comets in general and accounts of historic comets which had caused great excitement in their time but swept harmlessly on their way into space.

When Hemmingway came down to Stapleton on the evening of the 14th he said that in London the news had been accepted by the public better than the Government had anticipated. Everyone was talking 'comet' now, but taximen and bus conductors were joking about it and the great majority of people considered it only as an interesting event which would provide them with a little mild excitement in nine or ten days' time. Stocks had made a slight recovery, as now the man-in-the-street knew the reason for their recent decline he had found renewed faith and was buying again, confident that the markets must take a turn for the better before very long.

One piece of good news Hemmingway brought was that he had at last succeeded in getting the more delicate parts of the Ark manufactured satisfactorily and that the engineers could now go ahead with its construction.

Meanwhile, Sam and Lavina remained in blissful ignorance of the agitated cipher cables which were flashing round the world from Government to Government; of the increasing tension on the Bourses where the brokers were growing more worried with every fresh rumour they heard from important clients, in spite of the fact that they were making fortunes out of the terrific buying and selling that was in constant progress; and of the gradual feeling of unrest and uncertainty that had been spreading during recent weeks among the peoples of the world.

The fact that a great comet was hurtling earthwards at many thousands of miles an hour was stale news to them and for weeks past they had known the worst possibilities that might have to be faced when it came flaming downwards from the heavens; yet they rarely spoke of it. Even on June 13th, when the world's Press released the first official statements, they were so far off the beaten track that they did not see a paper or even hear the matter mentioned at the little inn where they were staying.

Their honeymoon had proved a great success, largely owing to their wise decision to break away from the type of luxury resort that they both knew well into an entirely new life which they had never sampled.

At first it had seemed a little strange to stay at small unpretentious places where there were no cocktail bars and members of the proprietor's family were the only servants. But the rooms of the French inns were bright and clean, and although the cooking was plain it was almost always excellent.

For the first few days it had not been easy for either of them to adjust themselves to the idea of having nothing in the world to do and nowhere to go for either work or amusement; and stranger still to have to go to bed soon after sunset. But the utter rest did them an immense amount of good. The sunshine tanned their bodies to a golden brown, and the less they did the less they wanted to do except just laze about and talk to each other.

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.

'The sooner the better,' Sam remarked. 'We're passing now through the calm before the storm because the bulk of the people still have no idea what we may be in for. I doubt if the Government can hold up the facts much longer, though, and once the cat's out of the bag the work-people may throw their hand in.'

After drinks in the house Oliver took them out on to the terrace. It was nearing sundown and, as the weather was fine, he was able to promise them their first view of the comet.

As it was now sufficiently near to be discernible to the human eye, diagrams of the section of the heavens in which it appeared were being printed in all the papers and, just after sunset, they had no difficulty in picking it out as a faint new star low on the horizon.

When Lavina remarked how tiny it seemed for such a terrible menace, Oliver chuckled and, promising a surprise, led them over to his telescope.

In turn they lay back in an adjustable chair like those found in dentists' surgeries and focused the eye-piece above them according to Oliver's instructions. The powerful lenses in the big tube seemed to bring the comet right down on top of them. It appeared as a huge, reddish mass which wobbled slightly at the edges. Oliver said that was to be accounted for by great waves of flame, hundreds of miles long, flickering out from its circumference, and that its tail was not visible owing to the fact that it was heading almost directly for the earth.

Sam had just had his turn of gazing at this terror of the heavens when Margery came out of the house and called to him.

'Sam, you're wanted on the telephone.'

He left the group by the telescope and went inside. When he returned a few minutes later his face was grave.

'Hemmingway promised to ring me here if anything fresh was decided at this evening's Cabinet Meeting,' he said slowly. 'It's just been announced that the Prime Minister is to broadcast tomorrow night, and, according to Hemmingway, he intends to tell the nation the whole truth.'

The Last Days of London

'In that case I think the time has come when we should release our prisoner,' Gervaise suggested. 'By Jove!' Sam swung round. 'I'd almost forgotten all about him. How's poor old Finkie been taking his captivity?'

'He was a little troublesome at first. He tried to batter his bedroom door down with some of the furniture; but the doors here are old and solid and I'd taken the precaution of putting extra bolts on. I had to tell him that, unless he stopped that sort of thing, I should be compelled to put him on bread and water. He's been very little trouble since.'

'I wonder he hasn't gone mad from boredom,' Lavina said. 'Just fancy, he's been cooped up with not a soul to talk to all these weeks while Sam and I were enjoying ourselves in France.'

Gervaise shrugged. 'It hasn't been quite as bad as that. I dislike the fellow so much that I really couldn't bring myself to exchange more than the necessary civilities with him, but Roy is more broad-minded—or shall we say charitable. Since Fink-Drummond settled down, Roy has spent quite a lot of time with him.'

'Yes. He's not at all a bad sort, really,' said Roy, 'and extraordinarily interesting to talk to. Whenever the weather isn't very good and I'm a bit bored myself, I go up and sit with him.'

'Isn't that a bit risky? He might have taken you by surprise one day and laid you out. Then, if he'd got the key off you, he could quite easily have escaped.'

Roy laughed. 'No fear of that. Uncle Gervaise locked the two of us in each time I decided to spend an hour or two in his room.'

'It's too late for him to do any damage to the Government now, as the Prime Minister's going to tell the country the truth tomorrow night,' said Sam thoughtfully, 'but I don't think we should release him yet. We shall have quite enough on our hands during the coming week without the additional bother he'd be certain to cause us if we freed him.'

'But are we justified in detaining him any longer now that he can't harm the nation?' asked Gervaise doubtfully.

'Perhaps not,' Sam smiled, 'but I think we will, all the same.'

Gervaise still looked a little dubious, but at that moment Margery came out again and called them all in to supper, which Derek had been helping her to lay. It was a cold meal and they waited on themselves, but, the comet temporarily forgotten, they laughed a lot and it was late when Sam and Lavina got back to London.

On the following morning the comet was front-page news again, and large headlines informed the world that the Heads of Governments were to make a statement about it that evening to their respective peoples.

When evening came the streets of London were almost deserted. Everyone who was not actively employed upon some unescapable duty was listening-in to a radio set.

The Premier opened with a brief resume of the new spirit of conciliation and friendship which had entered into international relations during recent weeks, and went on to say that the reason for this was that all Governments had received reports from their official astronomers that a comet, of which mention had been made in the Press during the last few days, was approaching the earth. They were unable to disguise from themselves that such a visitation might cause disturbances of a serious nature and had therefore co-operated to prevent the premature spreading of any, possibly baseless, alarm.

There were, however, certain eminent astronomers who considered that there was a far greater danger than that arising through panic on the comet's passing close to the earth, since these gentlemen believed that it might actually come into collision with us. Governments had therefore found themselves in a somewhat difficult situation.

If these eminent astronomers proved wrong in their calculations—and many of his colleagues were with him in thinking that they might well be so—any official statement based upon their findings might have caused the most appalling fears to destroy the mental balance of innumerable people; and when the comet did not hit us after all, that distress and terror, affecting perhaps millions of lives, would have been brought about without any justifiable cause.

On the other hand, by suppressing all news of the possible danger, Governments took the risk of being abused afterwards for having concealed the truth and for not having taken such precautions as might be possible to protect those for whom they were responsible.

For his own part, he had cheerfully taken that risk, and the Heads of foreign Governments had done likewise, since it was so very evident that, if the comet was about to come into collision with us, no human ingenuity could prevent its doing so; whereas, if it passed us by, an immense amount of distress would have been averted by concealing the danger.

If the worst happened, he went on, even the most eminent astronomers were far from agreeing as to what the effect would be. Some thought such a calamity might bring about the end of the world, but he considered that to be exaggerated pessimism. Others declared that it would only affect one portion of the earth's surface and, if this were the case, arrangements had already been entered into between Governments for immediate succour to be sent to the afflicted area. Other astronomers, again, postulated that, owing to the apparent size of the comet, a good half of the earth's surface would be bombarded for the space of an hour or so by a great hail of meteorites. In this latter case the danger could be regarded as no greater than that of a brief although severe enemy air attack, and as in no sense so dreadful as a European war.

Many of the Heads of foreign Governments had held the view that, in order to minimise apprehension to the shortest possible space of time, no statement of the full possibilities should be made until the last moment; but here they had met with opposition from the heads of their respective Churches.

These gentlemen felt it their duty to take the gloomiest view and had urged upon their Governments the necessity for giving their peoples at least a week to prepare themselves spiritually for the ending of the world, or possible death if they happened to be in an area seriously afflicted by the comet.

While practical considerations had, therefore, swayed the

Governments to withhold this information concerning the more terrible eventualities which might have to be faced, the spiritual could not be lightly disregarded, so it had been mutually agreed that the Heads of all Governments should make this announcement tonight.

In making it he could only stress the fact that, although the danger could not be ignored, whether it would be fatal to humanity, or even serious, was still highly problematical. Science had brought many benefits to mankind, but before each definite achievement it had made many blunders. Even today scientific theories were constantly being proved inaccurate as the result of further research. And if this were so with things which scientists could place under their microscopes or experiment on by trial and error, how much more was it true of theories about incalculably remote heavenly bodies rotating in space which, in itself, must for ever remain a problem insoluble to man.

Our knowledge of everything outside the confines of our own earth was still almost entirely theoretical. Therefore, the eminent astronomers might be completely wrong in their theories as to what would occur if the comet hit us. It might well be only a great mass of gas, small meteorites and dust, which would provide us with a splendid display of shooting stars but not damage us at all.

In any case, the Government had already taken such precautions as were possible by deciding that three days before the comet was due the schemes for the evacuation of women and children from the highly populated areas which had been worked out as a war measure, should be put into operation, thus ensuring that a minimum of life would be sacrificed should large meteorites fall upon cities causing fires and considerable destruction of property.

Finally, he begged that in the approaching crisis the nation would show that sense of order and discipline for which the British people had always been so remarkable. He and his colleagues would leave no stone unturned to protect the population and essential services from destruction. There need be no fear of any food shortage as their ample war reserves could be brought into use if required; but they must all be prepared to face whatever might befall them with that calm and courage which had ever marked the people of these Islands in great emergencies.

'Darned good speech,' said Sam, who had been listening-in with Lavina and Hemmingway at St. James's Square. 'The old boy's been clever, too. He's drawn the teeth of the Opposition —who'll naturally have a crack at him for having withheld the truth for so long—by throwing doubt on the astronomers' infallibility; and he's evaded criticism from the die-hards who think he ought to have concealed everything up to the last moment, by pushing the responsibility for telling the nation now on to the Archbishop.'

'Yes,' Lavina agreed. 'And, although he told them the worst, he gilded the pill very prettily by as good as saying he didn't think it would happen. I wonder how the public will take it?'

'Fairly well, I should say,' Hemmingway remarked. 'His speech was by no means alarmist and it was very well timed. We've got five days to go, which leaves two days for people to make their arrangements before the evacuation starts. During the next forty-eight hours they'll be kept pretty busy preparing for it. Let's go up to the roof and have another look at the comet. It's a nice night again and it must be visible just about now.'

The three of them went upstairs and stared towards the west at the heavenly terror which was rushing towards the earth. It was no longer a pin-point as it had been the night before, but the size of a major star, and in the clear summer night it winked at them, red and evil.

Lavina felt a strange tremor run through her and some instinct made her reach out to take Hemmingway's arm; although Sam was standing equally near her on her other side. Next moment Hemmingway's free hand had closed over hers, gripping it tightly, and they stood so until the comet had disappeared behind some chimney-pots, upon which, with a self-conscious glance, he released her hand and they drew quickly apart again.

Next morning Britain woke to find herself under martial law. The Government was taking no chances. There were troops in the streets, tanks parked in the Squares, and on the roof-tops machine-gun nests by which main thoroughfares and Government buildings could be covered.

The papers carried the Premier's speech in full, but as practically everybody had heard it, their major news line was 'MARTIAL LAW—MOBILISATION—PARTIAL MORATORIUM.'

Under their emergency powers the Government had introduced a Finance Bill by which all writs for debt were indefinitely suspended, and during the ensuing week the banks were only allowed to pay out to their customers the average amount which they had drawn per week for the last three months. This ensured the payment of wages and that the public could secure cash for its necessities, but prevented a run on the banks which might have caused financial chaos. The Stock Exchange was closed by order and all dealings in shares forbidden.

The Fighting Forces and Reservists were called up, and a warning issued that on June the 22nd the Civil Defence Forces would also be mobilised. All A.R.P. Chief Wardens and Heads of Fire-fighting and Nursing Units were instructed to remain within reach of their posts and to make a thorough inspection of their equipment forthwith, so that any deficiencies could be made good immediately.

The B.B.C. announced these measures over the wireless and, interspersed with light musical numbers, gave appeals for the maintenance of order, anti-alarmist talks belittling the comet's possible effects, and religious services. They also issued news bulletins of events abroad, and, with a view to reassuring the public, every one of these was designed to suggest that foreign populations were taking the crisis seriously but calmly.

In Parliament that afternoon the Prime Minister faced his critics, but the Opposition behaved well and gave him no serious trouble, since they realised that in such an emergency they must think of nation rather than Party. The only new point that emerged from the debate was when a Member suggested that the gravest risk from the comet would probably be big fires in the cities, caused by the intense heat setting light to inflammable materials.

This, the Home Secretary agreed, was a serious danger, but the number of buildings to be protected was so great that it would have been impossible to roof them all with asbestos sheeting, even if they had had ten years in which to do it. As against this, the Government had already commandeered all supplies of asbestos and vast quantities of sand, with which key-points were to be rendered immune from fire as far as possible.

It was stated that at a zero hour, to be announced later, everyone remaining in the cities was to go to ground in the A.R.P. shelters that had been prepared for war, taking their gas masks with them; and that all the shipping in the Thames had been commandeered so that if serious fires in London got out of control, that section of the population which had not been evacuated could take refuge in it.

Great crowds congregated in the streets that evening; particularly in the West End, round Trafalgar Square, Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament. The police found it necessary to divert all traffic from the main thoroughfares, as the strolling masses slowly perambulated Piccadilly, Whitehall and The Mall. Except that there were no flags or decorations in evidence, it was almost like the night of a Coronation or Royal Wedding. The events of the day had caused considerable anxiety, particularly to parents who had young children, but that did not prevent the bulk of the people deciding to come out and see any fun that was going.

On his return from the House to Downing Street, the Prime Minister was loudly cheered, and when the King came out with the Royal Family on the balcony of Buckingham Palace he received much more than the usual loyal ovation, for it had just been announced that, although His Majesty was sending his family to Windsor, he and the Queen had decided to remain in London to face the approaching crisis in the midst of their people.

Lavina would have liked to have gone out and mingled with the crowds, but she could hardly do so alone, and both Sam and Hemmingway were much too busy that evening for either of them to take her.

From early that morning Sam's co-directors and the principal executives of his many companies had been in constant communication with him to discuss what steps might be taken to protect their employees and the companies' properties.

There were constant comings and goings and telephone calls at St. James's Square, but none of the people concerned could offer any original suggestions. All the factories had their

A.R.P. schemes which had been worked out to the last detail, and these would automatically be put into operation. The Government's evacuation measures took care of the women and children in the congested areas as far as it was possible to do so, and the same fire precautions were to be adopted as if an enemy air raid was expected.

There were, however, innumerable detailed decisions which could be taken to render the factories less vulnerable. Stocks of inflammable material could be moved out into fields; temporary wooden structures could be demolished; coal and oil stores could be emptied of their contents, and so on; and it was the making of such decisions which kept Sam and Hemmingway busy with a succession of works managers and Trade Union officials far into the night.

Soon after breakfast next morning Derek Burroughs arrived from Stapleton to report that the Ark had been completed and launched the previous afternoon, and that the engineers who had constructed it were now packing up to return to their homes. He said he had decided to come up and report in person because he did not think it wise to give any particulars over the telephone as, if the fact that they had constructed an Ark down in Surrey once got out, any number of terrified people might make their way to it, in the hope of using it as a means of escape.

Sam agreed that he had been wise, and suggested that he remained at St. James's Square to keep Lavina company; as Hemmingway and he would be frantically busy all day continuing their arrangements and inspecting such of his factories as were near London.

"How about the servants here?' Lavina asked. "We can't possibly leave them in the lurch.'

'We can't take them in the Ark,' said Derek. 'There just isn't room for more than the eight of us. It's going to be a pretty tight squeeze as it is, if we have to remain in the thing for any length of time. So much space has had to be given up to the food, oxygen cylinders, and all the emergency stores we have collected.'

'I was thinking of the servants when I went to bed last night,' Sam replied. 'I only wish we could take them, but since it's impossible I suggest that we should only retain the new Rolls here, pack them in the other three cars, and send them all off to Wales.'

Derek nodded. 'Tell them to find the highest mountain that they can, get up there and sit on it until the party's over, eh?'

That's the idea. I laid in a whole lot of tinned stuff as an emergency ration in the event of war—enough to last the household at least a month. They can take that with them so that they'd be independent of anyone else; and, short of sacrificing ourselves, sending them off with plentiful supplies seems the best we can do for them.'

'In that case, the sooner they get off, the better,' Lavina suggested. 'The general evacuation takes place tomorrow, so if they start this morning they'll be able to get well ahead of the crush.'

'Clever girl. That's just what I was thinking,' Sam grinned. 'And until we can get down to Stapleton ourselves, 1 take it you'll manage to knock up any meals we may want.'

Lavina made a face, pulling down the corners of her mouth and the tip of her little Roman nose. 'I've got all sorts of attractions, but I'm a rotten cook. We'd much better feed at the Berkeley Arms.'

Sam shook his head. 'No time to spare even to go that far. You'll have to do the best you can for us.'

'I'll help you,' Derek volunteered. 'I'm a dab at scrambled eggs and, until we decided to shake the dust of London from our feet, I've got nothing else to do.'

'That's settled, then.' Sam stood up. 'I'll leave you to talk to the servants, darling, and see them safely off. Say good-bye to them and wish them luck for me. I wish I could do so myself, but I've got to get down to Brentford with Hemmingway now, to inspect the Mayo-Thompson works.'

'Will you be back to lunch?'

'I'm afraid not, my sweet. I've got a whole round of inspections to make today, just as a check-up on what's being done. Actually, I don't think there's much more that we can do, but at a time like this the workpeople will expect me to put in a personal appearance and say a few words to them.'

When he had gone, Lavina sent for the butler and asked him to assemble the servants in the drawing-room. She then explained to them the plans that Sam had suggested for his staff and added that, if any of them did not wish to go to Wales, they were perfectly free to join their own families or go anywhere else they liked.

Several of them offered to stay on, and Lavina thanked them but said that as she and Sam would shortly be going to the country they were closing down the house and, after a brief consultation, all but two of the staff agreed to Sam's proposals that they should pack up and leave at once for Wales.

The cars were brought round from the garage, the tinned provisions and baggage of the staff were loaded on to them, and then the servants all came in to say good-bye to Lavina.

She did not know any of them well enough to be really distressed at the thought that she might never see them again, but it was a queer little ceremony to be shaking hands and wishing good luck to all one's domestics dressed in their best clothes in the middle of the morning.

A few of the younger women seemed a little scared, but the second footman, who appeared to be the jester of the household, kept cracking jokes with the others, as they piled into the cars, about the adventures that might befall them when they pitched camp upon their Welsh mountain-top; and at half-past twelve Lavina and Derek waved them all good-bye from the front doorstep.

When they were inside again, they found the great house strangely silent after the continuous hustle which had been going on all the morning. At first they thought of lunching out, but everything seemed so unsettled that they decided against it.

Derek mixed some cocktails and Lavina turned on the radio. A lecture on fire-fighting was in progress, so she promptly switched it off again as she never listened-in unless she could get dance music. As she was passionately fond of dancing she had a big selection of the latest dance-band records, and picking eight of her favourites she put them on the gramophone-attachment instead.

For about ten minutes they wandered restlessly about the room, glasses in hand, while negroes crooned at them and trumpets blared. Somehow, there didn't seem to be anything to talk about except the comet and both of them wished to avoid that subject if possible. It was also the first time they had been alone together since her marriage.

Suddenly Lavina set down her glass and started to kick back the Persian rugs.

'Come on,' she said, 'we can't gloom about like this eternally. Let's dance.'

Derek sank his cocktail and smiled. He was a good dancer, as she remembered well, and something of his old attraction for her came back as he put his arm round her and they moved slowly up and down the parquet floor in well-timed rhythm.

'Remember the last time we danced together?' he asked.

'No,' she lied. 'Years ago we danced together so often.'

'Illen I'll tell you. It was at the Hazlitts'; a party they gave for Hugh's coming-out.'

'Was it?'

'Yes. I can even tell you the dress you wore. You had on a lovely thing made of golden satin which went wonderfully with your fair complexion and golden hair. It was a slinky sort of frock and much too old for you, but, all the same .. .'

'Oh, shut up!' she exclaimed, digging her nails into his arm and giving him a little shake. The next second she had left him, flung up the lid of the radiogram and switched it off.

When she turned again her grey eyes were dark and angry. 'It's rotten of you, Derek, to dig up those old memories. That's all past and done with and I'm happily married now.'

'Of course you are.' He thrust his hands deep in his pockets and smiled at her. 'But what's all the excitement about? I wasn't making love to you or anything.'

'No?' she regarded him doubtfully. 'It sounded suspiciously like it, and I warn you I'm not having any. Since we've been thrown together again like this it's best we should forget what we were to each other. If Sam suspects that you're still in love with me it will make things abominably awkward for all of us.'

Derek lit a cigarette. 'You needn't bother your little head about Sam. I'm not given to poaching other men's coverts, but asking me to forget the past is an altogether different matter. I loved you then, and you loved me. I love you still and I believe, if you told the truth, you still love me a little bit. Anyhow, I'm quite certain that you're not in love with your husband.' 'You're wrong there. I...'

He held up his hand. 'One minute. I'm not saying that you won't be loyal to him; and, please believe I haven't the least intention of trying to break up your marriage.'

'You couldn't if you tried.'

'I know that; but when the smash comes a lot of us may get killed. It's even possible that the whole social order as we know it may go down the drain and that money and position won't mean a thing any more to those of us who come through.'

'Well, what of it?'

'Simply, that we'll just be men and women, without any trimmings. You might as well know now that if anything happens to Sam, but you and I survive to live on in a strange new world, you're going to be my woman.'

A Terrifying Experience

Lavina's eyes narrowed and her under-lip drooped a little. Normally she was a very gay, good-tempered person but quick to follow her emotional impulses, and although her anger never lasted any length of time, it could be surprisingly intense and it showed now in every line of her slender body.

'You fool!' she snapped. 'We're not living in the Dark Ages. If the two of us were marooned on a desert island I wouldn't let you even kiss my hand unless I wanted you to.'

'But you -would want me to,' he said quietly.

As she looked at his firm, sunburnt face and square shoulders and strong, healthy body, she knew that he was right. Ever since she was seventeen she had been having love affairs, although she had never really been in love, except, perhaps, with Derek, and she was quite certain now that her love for him was as dead as last year's roses; yet she liked being kissed and she knew that, if she were marooned with any attractive man, she would not be able to resist the temptation.

'I don't think we need discuss it,' she said more soberly. 'The chances are we'll all be killed or all survive together. In the meantime you'd better not try to start anything, because, if you do, there'll be trouble.'

'Are you inferring that if I did you'd tell Sam what I said just now?'

'Good Lord, no! I've always handled my own affairs and the last thing I'd do would be to run screaming to my husband.'

'Well, you needn't worry. I'm much too fond of you to cast the least shadow on your married bliss. I was only saying that, if anything happened to Sam, I should enter the lists again. That's fair enough, isn't it?'

'Oh, perfectly. But, even then, you wouldn't get anywhere by trying to be possessive. Let's go down to the kitchen and try to rake up a meal, shall we?'

'By all means.' He smiled again. 'I'll cook you some of those scrambled eggs I was boasting about.'

By the time the eggs were sizzling in the pan, the emotional tension had eased and they were back once more on their normal friendly footing.

Lavina's slender hands were not made for work and she was a past mistress in the art of getting other people to do things for her. While Derek cooked the eggs, and at the same time endeavoured to prevent the toast from burning, she sat perched on the edge of the kitchen table idly swinging her legs and puffing lazily at the twenty-fourth cigarette she had smoked that morning.

After the meal they went upstairs again and played the gramophone until three o'clock. Lavina then said she thought she would go and look through her things to decide what she would take when they left London.

Derek read for a bit, dozed a little in a comfortable armchair and, rousing up about half-past four, went down to the kitchen to make tea.

He carried a cup up to Lavina and found her in her bedroom, surrounded with trunks and enough hats, shoes, dresses and lingerie to fill a small shop.

'My dear! What are you up to?' he laughed aloud. 'You won't be able to take one-tenth of that lot.'

She opened wide her grey eyes and stared at him. 'Why not? I must have clothes, whatever happens to us.'

'Yes, clothes, but not a film-star's trousseau; some serviceable tweeds and your warmest fur coat, a pair of trousers, perhaps, some woollies, gum-boots if you've got them, and a few changes of underwear. That's all you'll need for this trip. We're not carrying a jazz band in the Ark so there won't be any dancing after dinner.'

'Silly of me. I hadn't thought. Oh, well,' she smiled resignedly, 'I think I'll take my new grey satin, though. If I'm fated to die I'd like to meet Death looking my best.'

'I believe you'd even tempt Saint Peter into giving you a special place in Heaven if you had the chance.'

'Derek, you're horrid.'

D '

'No, darling. It's only that I know you rather well.'

Eventually he managed to persuade her to confine her packing to one cabin-trunk and two large suitcases, after which they went downstairs.

At six o'clock they turned on the radio to get the news, and both their faces became grave as they heard the first item. That morning one of the worst earthquakes ever recorded had occurred in Tokyo. For over three hours tremors had shaken the city. Huge crevices had appeared, engulfing houses, buses, cars and hundreds of people. Two-thirds of the buildings, other than those made of steel and concrete, were reported to be in ruins; and great fires were still raging in many parts of the city. The loss of life was not yet known, but it was estimated already at over a hundred thousand.

Lavina switched the wireless off. 'I don't want to listen,' she said. 'It's too terrible.'

Derek put his arm round her shoulders in brotherly fashion. 'Don't let it get you down, old girl. I've a sort of conviction that we're coming through it.'

'Oh, but it's not us,' she moaned, as she leant against him. 'I'm not afraid for myself, but just think of those poor people.'

'Try not to.' He squeezed her hand. 'We'd help them if we could, but we can't, and we must do our best to carry on as cheerfully as possible. That's all there is to it. I'm going to mix you a cocktail.'

Sam and Hemmingway returned soon afterwards. They were hot and tired after their long day of dashing from factory to factory, and neither of them had eaten since breakfast. Without a word Lavina suddenly disappeared. Ten minutes later she returned with cake, fruit, sandwiches and drinks for them.

They had just settled down to their picnic meal when the knocker on the front door sounded. Derek went to answer it and found Roy on the doorstep.

'What's brought you up here?' Lavina inquired, as soon as he had greeted the little gathering in the lounge.

'Your especial safety, dear friends,' he grinned. 'Uncle Gervaise sent me. Apparently, the world has started to blow up already so he's anxious you should come down to Stapleton as soon as possible.'

'You mean the Japanese earthquake?' said Derek quickly. 'We heard about it on the radio. Pretty ghastly, isn't it?'

'That, and other things.' The grin left Roy's face. 'Oliver was on the telephone to Greenwich this afternoon and heard about the Tokyo business before it was announced over the wireless. Of course, the announcer said afterwards that the 'quake had no connection with the comet, and, as they're always having earthquakes in Japan, most people will accept that; but we know better. The fools ought never to have announced it at all, but they've had orders now to suppress all news about the other eruptions.'

'There have been others, then?' Hemmingway inquired.

'Yes. There's been a bad one in northern India and another in Brazil. Lots of volcanoes, too, are reported as showing unusual activity. That's why Gervaise is so set on it you should leave London tonight. If the shocks get worse, we're going to feel them here. Then people may lose their heads and in the stampede you may not be able to get out of London at all.'

'Sorry,' said Sam, 'I can't go down tonight. I've got to go over a big factory out at Hendon this evening, and I've another two that I must visit tomorrow; but that's no reason the rest of you shouldn't go.'

'I'm not leaving London without you,' Lavina said quietly.

'Nonsense, darling.' He squeezed her arm. 'I was going to suggest that you got away tonight before the evacuation starts, in any case. You needn't worry about me. I must see my job through, then I'll get to Stapleton under my own steam.'

'I'm not leaving without you, Sam,' she repeated.

'Now, be sensible,' he urged. 'I'll be much easier in my mind knowing that you're safely out of it.'

'I'm sorry, but I've no intention of being parted from you at a time like this.'

Sam had known Lavina long enough to realise how mulish she could be when she had made up her mind upon a thing, so he did not press her further; and after a short silence Derek asked Roy:

'How did you find things on your way here?'

Roy depressed the corners of his mouth. 'Down the line everyone's hard at it digging trenches and sand-bagging their houses and that sort of thing, but London's pretty mouldy.

Squads of soldiers and police are patrolling the streets and breaking up any crowds that try to gather. The shops are all shut, of course, which seems queer, with so many people about. A woman threw herself under my train as we steamed into Waterloo, but apart from that I didn't see much hysteria.'

'The churches are doing a roaring business, though,' Sam added. 'They're in perpetual session and packed to suffocation. I even saw people kneeling on the steps of St. Martin-in-the-Fields as I passed it. There are a good few drunks about, too. But, by and large, people are still taking things pretty calmly. There are no signs of any riots yet, anyway.'

'Then let's go out this evening,' Lavina suggested. 'I'm sick of sitting here doing nothing, and I've been cooped up in the house all day.'

'I'd rather you didn't, darling.' Sam said quickly.

She gave him one of her most bewitching smiles. 'I shall be perfectly all right, sweet, with Derek and Roy to look after me.'

'Where would you go?'

'Oh, I don't know. But we may be living in the last days of London, and I'd like to see how its people are behaving.'

'Well, if I let you, will you promise to set off for Stapleton first thing tomorrow morning?'

'When do you expect to get there yourself?'

'Tomorrow evening at the latest.'

Lavina nodded. She was not really an unreasonable person and was excellent at making compromises. 'In that case, I'm game to play. What time will you be back tonight?'

'It's difficult to say. I tell you what, though. As you've agreed to leave first thing tomorrow, there's not really much point in my coming back here at all. You see, my first visit in the morning is Edmonton and, as the evacuation will be in full swing, the traffic congestion going out of London is sure to be appalling. If I pack a bag, I could get a bed in my manager's house at Hendon for tonight and then go across country to Edmonton tomorrow without coming back into London at all. That'd save me so much time I might even be able to get down to Stapleton by the afternoon.'

'Then although I hate the thought of being parted from you even for a single night, that's clearly the thing to do, darling.

Roy and Derek will take care of me and we'll all meet again at Stapleton tomorrow.'

'I'd better pack a bag, too. then,' said Hemmingway.

Sam shook his head. 'No. One of us must sort out all the private papers here and, since I'm not returning, that'll be your job. I can manage quite well without you for these last factory visits. While the others are out on the spree you'd better go through the safe and sling all the contracts and important stuff into a suitcase. I shall have to take the Rolls but you've got your own car and Derek's got his so one of you can take Lavina and the other Roy down to Stapleton first thing tomorrow.'

When Sam had packed and gone, Hemmingway disappeared to his room while Derek went round to get his car, which he had left in the garage at the back of the house. Lavina and Roy were waiting for him outside the front door and the three of them set off on a tour of the West End.

There was not much traffic about as most people who had private cars were now on their way to the country, feeling that they would be safer there than in London where big fires were liable to break out. Turning into Piccadilly, they saw a line of vans outside Burlington House into which porters were loading works of art for removal to places of safety. There were vans, too, in Bond Street, as many of the luxury traders had decided to evacuate their stocks of furs, jewels andobjets d'art; but most of the shops were closed and shuttered.

The streets were fairly full of people strolling aimlessly, or gathered in small knots on corners arguing together. But it was by no means a typical West End crowd. Most of them seemed to have come in from the poorer districts, judging from their clothes.

Apart from the small squads of police and troops who were patrolling the streets, the most unusual sight was the activity which was going forward on nearly every roof-top. As they turned west along Oxford Street, small figures were silhouetted against the evening skyline busily placing layers of sand-bags on roofs as a protection against the smaller meteorites.

At Marble Arch the crowd overflowed into the roadway, as the Park, having been turned into a supply depot, was closed; and the Hyde Park orators had set up their stands round the

Arch itself. The political speakers were, as usual, denouncing the Government but their audiences were poor ones. The religious preachers were having it all their own way as they urged the packed throngs to 'repent in time,' and some people were even kneeling on the pavements before them. A policeman signalled Derek down a side-street so, turning the car round, they ran slowly back towards Tottenham Court Road.

On reaching Charing Cross Road they turned south and came into the theatre district, which again was crowded. In order to keep things as normal as possible, the Government had decreed that the places of amusement should be kept open, but there were no pit queues although it was just past eight. On the other hand, the pubs were doing a roaring trade. There was not enough room in the bars to hold the customers and many of them had carried their drinks outside, where they stood arguing over them in the sultry, windless air.

The majority of the people seemed calm and expectant, just waiting for something—they didn't quite know what—to happen; but it was clear that two schools of extremists had arisen. A strong religious revival was gaining many adherents. Street preachers had taken up their position on corners and outside some of the theatres. In raucous tones they were proclaiming the Second Coming and large, earnest audiences were gathered in front of each of them.