Unconditional surrender Read Online Free PDF Page A

‘You’re much better off with the ale. The champagne is poison,’ and so had begun an association which developed richly.
    Sir Ralph was then doing a spell at the Foreign Office. When the time came for him to go abroad on post, he arranged for Ludovic’s release from the regiment, who were sorry to lose him; he had lately been promoted corporal of horse at an early age. Then had begun five years’ life abroad in Sir Ralph’s company, as ‘valet’ at the embassy, as ‘secretary’ when they travelled on leave. Sir Ralph discreetly attended to his protégé’s education, lending him books on psychology which he relished and on Marxist economics which he found tedious; giving him tickets for concerts and the opera, leading him, when they were on holiday, through galleries and cathedrals.
    The marriage did not last long. There was an unusually early divorce. Ludovic, as he now was, constituted the sole progeny of that union.
     
    It was 5 o’clock. At 5.30 the Abbey had to be shut for the night. Already the police were turning away the extremity of the queue saying: ‘You won’t get in today. Come back tomorrow morning – early,’ and the people obediently drifted into the dusk to join other queues elsewhere.
    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 above 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 the unseeing, inarticulate procession who were asserting their right to the fair share of everything which they believed the weapon symbolized. 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.
    Ludovic had an appointment with Sir Ralph for 5.30. He had to meet by appointment in these days. They were no longer on the old easy terms, but Ludovic did not lose touch. In his altered and exalted status he did not look for money, but there were other uses to which their old association could be put. Whenever he came to London he let Sir Ralph know and they had tea together. Sir Ralph had other companions for dinner.
    They met at their old place of assignation. Once Sir Ralph had a house in Hanover Terrace, and his retreat in Ebury Street – rooms over a shop, which had something of the air of expensive undergraduate digs – had been a secret known to barely fifty men. Now these rooms were his home; he had moved the smaller pieces of his furniture there; but not many more people – fewer perhaps – knew the way there than in the old days.
    Ludovic walked down Victoria Street, crossed the shapeless expanse at the bottom and reached the familiar doorstep at the same moment as his host. Sir Ralph opened the door and stood back for Ludovic to enter. He had never lacked devoted