At the dock gates some petty French officials refused to allow the van to pass, but Sir Pellinore had already made arrangements to be met in case he had trouble in getting on board. A British naval lieutenant came out of the gates almost before the argument had got under way, and behind him was a squad of armed bluejackets. Unceremoniously they brushed the French aside, jumped on to the running-boards of the van and took it through to the dockside, where a small cargo ship, crowded with English refugees, was tied up.
The naval officer had not bargained for the van, but his orders were to do all in his power to render Sir Pellinore any assistance required. The French dockers refused to load the van so the British seamen hoisted it with a derrick; the fore-well of the ship was cleared and roped off, then the van was lowered into it. Ten minutes later the hawsers were cast off and the ship put to sea.
As they steamed out into the broad Gironde, Gregory said: 'Well, it looks as though we're in for pretty tough times ahead.'
Sir Pellinore drew slowly on his cigar. 'Yes; but there are always two sides to a question. You've read your history, Gregory, and you know a bit about military campaigns. Hasn't it often struck you that it's not so much numbers that win wars as singleness of purpose? When we fought Louis of France half Marlborough's trouble was getting the German princes and the Dutch—and all sorts of other people—to line up with him; and it was just the same when we fought Napoleon—one after another of our Allies let us down. Allies mean divided councils. The weakness of one hampers the war effort of the others, so I'm not at all certain that what has happened isn't for the best. We have no more Allies left to rat on us; but we have ourselves and the Empire. We can take all that's coming to us—you may be sure of that; then, when the time is ripe, we shall be able to strike when, how and where we will. But tell me,' he lowered his voice, 'did you get that woman?'
Gregory shook his head. 'No. I've an extraordinary story to tell you, but that will have to wait. Since I left Finland, thirteen weeks ago, I've travelled some seven thousand miles. That's well over five hundred miles a week on average, and fourteen hundred of it have been done in the last three days, over roads choked with French refugees; so I'm pretty well all in.'
'Of course, my boy,' Sir Pellinore nodded. 'I'll see that naval feller and, whoever else has to be turned out, he'll fix you a berth. But even if you didn't get her you haven't come away empty-handed; you got the van.'
'Yes; I got the van, with the letter-files that now mean so much to us, and a splendid fortune including a good hundred-thousand-pounds' worth of old masters. There's one there that I'd rather like you to have a look at before I turn in.'
They went down the ladder to the fore-well where the van had been chocked up, and wrenching away the broken padlock Gregory pulled open the doors. Its contents were exactly the same as when the van had left the garage of the Julius Caesar, but for one addition. A big, bloated, paunchy man, with his wrists and ankles tied, was lying on the floor, breathing stertorously in a half-conscious state.
'Hitler has won his battle,' smiled Gregory, 'but I've won mine. I don't think you've met my prisoner—Herr Gruppenfuhrer Grauber.'
******
A little over eight hours later Sir Pellinore shook Gregory out of a deep sleep. 'I wouldn't have wakened you,' he said, 'but we've just had it over the radio that Churchill is going to broadcast at nine o'clock. It's an historic occasion that I felt you wouldn't want to miss and you can turn in again immediately afterwards.'
When Gregory came up the companionway he saw that the ship had passed the river-mouth and left the French coast behind. The stars of the summer night were coming out as dusk closed down upon the sea.
In the little saloon of the ship they sat with long glasses in their hands as the voice of the 'Lion of England'
came clearly to them across the broad waters that are Britain's heritage.
'What has happened in France makes no difference to British faith and purpose. We have become the sole champion now in arms to defend the world cause. We shall defend our island and with the British Empire around us we shall fight on, unconquerable, until the curse of Hitler is lifted from the brows of men.'
THE END