Читать книгу Unconditional Surrender онлайн

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Major Ludovic went straight to the Abbey entrance, laid his blank oyster gaze on the policeman and raised his gloved hand to acknowledge a salute that had not been given.

"'Ere, just a moment, sir, where are you going?"

"The--er--King's present to the--er--Russians--they tell me it's on show here."

"Got to wait your turn. There's others before you, sir."

Ludovic spoke with two voices. He had tried as an officer; now he reverted to the tones of the barrack-room. "That's all right, cock. I'm here on duty same as yourself," and the puzzled man stood back to let him by.

Inside the Abbey it seemed already night. The windows gave no light. The two candles led the people forward, who, as they were admitted in twenties, broke their column of fours, advanced in a group and then fell into single file as they reached the sword. They knew no formal act of veneration. They paused, gazed, breathed and passed on. Ludovic was the tallest of them. He could see the bright streak from over their heads. He held his cap and his cane behind his back and peered intently. He had a special interest there, but when he came to the sword and tried to linger he was pressed silently on, not jostled resentfully, but silently conscribed into that unseeing, inarticulate procession who were asserting their right to the fair share of everything which they believed the weapon symbolised. He had no time to study the detail. He glimpsed the keen edge, the sober ornament, the more luxurious scabbard and then was borne on and out. It was not five minutes before he found himself once more alone, in the deepening fog.