Like those modern military experts who are sometimes haunted by the thought of their entire forces being immobilised by a petrol shortage, Hemmingway pondered for a moment on the possibility of finding horses, only to realise immediately that all horse-drawn vehicles had also been pressed into service to aid in the evacuation. Fortunately, however, he possessed a sense of humour, and the mental picture of himself driving a handsome cab down to the East End did much to mitj. gate his mounting exasperation.
There was only one thing for it. Derek had borrowed his car so he must borrow, or rather steal, somebody else's. He did not like the idea a little bit, although it was not the moral aspect of the matter that troubled him. In such an emergency he considered that he would be perfectly justified in doing all sorts of things that he would never have dreamed of in normal times.
What did perturb him was the fact that, having evacuated the Capital, the Government's principal concern now was to prevent looting. He had listened-in to the stringent regulations issued over the wireless on the previous day. As the country was under martial law, any persons discovered attempting to break into enclosed premises, or in the act of looting, were to be summarily dealt with by courts martial and, if they attempted to resist arrest, the police and troops had authority to fire upon them.
If he endeavoured to steal a car and got caught in the act, that would be the end of any hope of collecting Lavina and getting her down to Stapleton. Yet he saw that he must take the risk.
The next thing was, where was there any likelihood of there being a car which he might annex? He could go to one of the Government depots, try bluffing the people in charge into believing that he was an A.R.P. warden and, perhaps, get a car in that way; but the odds seemed pretty heavy against such a scheme succeeding, and, anyhow, he didn't like it. The idea of stealing a Government vehicle which might later be needed for saving lives went too much against the grain.
Every motor showroom and public garage had already been cleared of its contents, so the only other line seemed to be a car which somebody might have left in a private lock-up. Such vehicles, he knew, were now very few and far between but there must be some which their owners still had under lock and key either because, like himself, their departure had been delayed or because they happened to have been out of England when the crisis had arisen.
He realised then that the most likely place to find such a laid-up car was right in the mews where he was standing. In ordinary times, at this hour of the morning, the chauffeurs would have been just getting up and starting to clean their cars for the day's work, but there wasn't a single person stir-rjng in the mews at the moment nor any sound proceeding from the flats above the garages. In nearly all of them the blinds were drawn and there was little doubt that most of the chauffeurs and their families had left London with their employers. Yet only the very rich can afford to live in the mansions of St. James's Square and very rich people nearly always possess several cars. Sam, for example, had four. It was, therefore, quite on the cards that one of the neighbours might have left behind at least one of his cars.
Hemmingway promptly began to hunt round in his mind for the person in the block whose garage would offer the best prospects for raiding. On the right lived Lord Allenfield, the great newspaper magnate. His legion of secretaries and hangers-on would have seen to it that all his cars were utilised for some purpose or other. The next house was empty. On the left lived Charlotte, Countess of Duffeldown, an old lady of eighty. Her only vehicle, Hemmingway was almost certain, was an incredibly aged Rolls and he had seen her drive away in it, with mountains of luggage, two days before. But the next one on the left offered much better prospects. It belonged to Julius Guggen-baum, the South African millionaire. He had been in South Africa for the last three months and, as he was a bachelor, the house had been shut up on his departure; so there seemed a really good chance that he might have left one or more cars laid up in his garage.
Hemmingway looked anxiously up and down the mews and stood listening intently for a moment, but the silence of the early morning remained unbroken.
Pulling the steel case-opener from under his rope-ladder belt he inserted it under the hinge of the padlock on Mr. Julius Guggenbaum's garage door. Forcing it down he threw all his weight upon it and wrenched out the screws.
He had hardly done so when a voice called: 'Hi!'
Turning, he saw two policemen entering the north end of the mews. His impulse was to run, but the mews was not a long °ne and the policemen were only about a hundred yards away. Even if he could outdistance them they would blow their Whistles as they gave chase. It was almost certain that before he could elude them in the deserted streets he would be headed off by police arriving from other directions. With an effort of will he controlled his impulse and, turning, walked towards the rapidly-advancing constables.
'Well! What is it?' he asked sharply.
'That garage door,' said one of the officers. 'We observed you breaking the lock.'
'Yes. What about it?'
They were a little taken aback by his self-assurance but the other man braced himself and said firmly:
'You know the emergency regulations. It's a serious matter breaking into places these days. We shall have to take you into custody and hand you over to the Military.'
Hemmingway laughed, although he did not feel at all like laughing. 'You'll look a pretty couple of fools if you do. There's no law to stop a man breaking into his own premises, is there?'
'Well, of course, that's different,' conceded the spokesman of the pair, 'but you'll have to satisfy us that this is your garage.'
'Certainly,' Hemmingway smiled. 'Actually, it's Sir Samuel Curry's; but I'm his secretary. Sir Samuel left for the country yesterday but I had to stay behind to sort out his papers.' He held up the fat satchel. 'Unfortunately, he was so busy when he left that he forgot to hand over the key of the garage, so I've had to break it open to get out my own car.'
'I see. That sounds all right. But you won't mind our asking, sir, just in the way of duty, to give us some proof that you really do belong here.'
'Not a bit. The best proof I can offer you is to suggest that you come round to the house with me and have a drink. I dare say you chaps could do with one, now you're on duty day and night like this.'
'That's very kind of you, sir.' The constable glanced at his companion. 'We're living in strenuous times these days so we don't mind if we do.'
Hemmingway led them back to the house; praying as he did so that it would not occur to them to count the number of garages in the mews and tumble to it that the Curry mansion did not back on to the garage that he had been caught breaking into.
Having let them into the house he filled two glasses two-thirds full of whisky and added a splash of soda to each. Then, with his back to his guests, he mixed himself another in almost the opposite proportions. He had entertained police officers before on a few occasions, and had a fair idea of their capacity. He was not disappointed. Both of them swallowed their drinks without turning a hair.
When they had emptied their glasses he asked them if they would like another, but they both shook their heads, so he said cheerfully:
'Well, if you're satisfied about me now, I must be getting along.'
'Yes. Everything's O.K., sir, and many thanks for the drinks,' replied the spokesman. Both now appeared in an excellent humour.