Kenyon did not ask 'in case of what.' He knew, so he sat down to wait for Ann, and Rudd meanwhile entertained him.
Eleven o'clock chimed from the hideous pale bronze clock on the mantelpiece, then twelve, and he began to wonder what had happened to her. If only she had been reasonable the night before they might have been out of London by this time. He found himself taking cigarette after cigarette out of his case until it was exhausted; Rudd, who had long since reassembled his dangerous looking battery, but continued to bear him company, came to the rescue with a packet of Gold Flake.
Kenyon sat on, but by the time the clock struck one he was thinking of Veronica. To delay much longer would not to be fair to her, and he must get her down to Banners somehow, yet every moment he wanted more desperately to see Ann. At twenty minutes past he pulled himself together, and stood up to go.
Rudd promised faithfully that he would telephone the very second that Ann returned, and with that slender comfort Kenyon descended to his car.
He took the by ways to Hyde Park Corner, but there he found a block; thousands of people and several hundred police. The sailors from Portsmouth with the aid of commandeered vehicles had completed their march, and were due to arrive any moment. Arrangements had been made for them to camp in the Green Park. A dozen people, cheerful but unapologetic, immediately occupied the bonnet and back hood of his car, so Kenyon, knowing it would be useless to protest, took the invasion without comment and stood up in the driver's seat.
Over the heads of the crowds, from the corner of St. George's Hospital, he saw the bluejackets go by. Shepherded by mounted police and cheered by a considerable proportion of the people, they passed quite peaceably to their temporary encampment. With them were quite a number of soldiers, sympathisers Kenyon supposed, from the Aldershot Command which, rumour said, had failed to head the sailors off.
He looked meditatively again at the tall arch. The men up there were hidden now, but at the first sign of trouble they could mow the malcontents down like ripe corn.
The crowd suddenly thinned, overflowing into the street. His uninvited companions who were using his car as a grandstand smilingly descended, and at a foot pace he edged his way towards Hamilton Place. A few minutes later he was back in Grosvenor Square.
Veronica had started lunch without him, and she felt quite shocked as she gave a quick glance at his drawn face.
'What is the matter, darling?' she asked.
'Oh, nothing,' he said wearily, and sitting down, told her the events of the morning.
'I see,' she said slowly. 'Well, as a matter of fact, Alistair rang up. He wants me to meet him this afternoon at a tea shop behind Wellington Barracks; and I said I would if you were agreeable to postponing our departure till this evening.'
'That's not true, Veronica! You thought of that story to give me another chance to see Ann.'
'My sweet, I may be an habitual liar, I am with most people, but I don't have to be with my own brother!'
'Honestly?'
'Yes, honestly!'
'No, I've got to get you down to Banners this afternoon; perhaps I'll come back tomorrow, we'll see.'
'I suppose you're worried stiff about her?'
The fact that I don't know where she is, and the thought of what may happen to her, if she is not out of London by tonight, is driving me half crazy.
I like your little Ann, Kenyon.'
'Do you really?'
Veronica thought him almost pathetic in his eagerness for her approbation. 'Certainly I do,' she said firmly. 'She's got guts, darling, guts. And I adore the way she hopped out of the window; I've been thinking about her all the morning.'
'Thanks, Veronica; you've been damn good about this business.'
'Don't be a fool! I'm never good about anything unless it suits my book. Now I'm going to leave you to finish your lunch alone.'
'Right. We'll get along in half an hour's time.'
When he had finished he rang for his man and asked:' 'Did you go up to Euston this morning, as I told you?'
'Yes, milord, and the cigarettes from Foyer and Co. had arrived. I had an awful job to get them, though.'
'Had they, by Jove! Good old Yorgallidis! What a performer not to let us down, even at a time like this. Were the crowds very bad?'
'Shocking, milord, no trains running, and by the time I left the people were that angry they were wrecking the booking offices.'
Kenyon nodded gloomily. 'It's about time we cleared out. Pack a good sized picnic basket, and put it with the cigarettes and luggage in the car.' Carter's usually impassive face showed sudden surprise.
'Am I to take it that you are going without her ladyship?'
'Of course not; she's upstairs getting her things.'
'Excuse me, milord, her ladyship left the house about ten minutes ago, and I was to tell you that she would be back round about half past six.'
'I see. We must wait till she gets back then.' Kenyon did not believe the story about Alistair for one moment. With quixotic disregard of danger to herself, Veronica was giving him a few more hours to try and get in touch with Ann; between the two of them he was now at his wits' end with anxiety and worry.
There was no alternative but to take advantage of her generosity so he decided to telephone to Rudd. When he dialled the number there was no reply. He dialled it again and a man's voice spoke:
'Number, please?'
'I dialled it,' said Kenyon.
'If you will give it me, I will ring you as soon as I can,' said the voice.
Kenyon gave the number, thinking as he did so how greatly it would add to the Government's difficulties if the telephone service broke down. For half an hour he sat beside the instrument, then the call came through. Rudd had no news of Ann, nor could he suggest any place that she was likely to have gone to. He promised to telephone if she did return to Gloucester Road.
For an hour Kenyon paced the library in growing desperation. He tried to read but could not settle to a book. Where, in all this vast stone wilderness of London 's streets, could Ann be at that moment, was the thought that racked his mind; and what would become of her in the days ahead if he could not make certain of her safety.?
At half past four he rang up again, waited half an hour rang up the supervisor, and was begged by the much harassed operator to be patient. It was a quarter past five before his call came through still no news of Ann.
With a sudden feeling of guilt he remembered that he had not been in touch with Party headquarters that day. They might have work for him in connection with rationing or some emergency committee, so he put through a call to the office. After another long wait he got through to his immediate Chief, but the man was worried, irritable.
What did he want? Why didn't he get off the line? They were expecting important news… It was essential that incoming calls should not be blocked… Kenyon rang off quickly, praying that he had not blocked a call from Rudd. In nervous exasperation he put through another. The wait seemed interminable, and he felt now as though he had been sitting beside the instrument for days. It was nearly seven o'clock before his call came through.
'Rudd speakin', sir. Bin tryin' to get you this last 'arf hour. Miss C. come in at a'pars'six. Bin ter see 'er cousin in Muswell 'Ill, I gather, but 'er cousin weren't there; she's gone out again now… When'll she be back?… That's more 'an I can say. Gone out wiv Miss Girlie she 'as ter get a bit of food, I reckon.'
'All right, I'll come right along,' said Kenyon.
He dashed up to Veronica's room only to find that she had not yet come in. Downstairs once more he paced restlessly up and down the hall now furious with impatience to get away. Carter appeared, silent footed and efficient as usual with a cocktail shaker and glasses on a tray. He poured one out and offered it to Kenyon.