Unconditional surrender Read Online Free PDF

servants. ‘Mrs Embury,’ he called, ‘Mrs Embury,’ and his housekeeper appeared above them on the half landing. She had known Ludovic in other days.
    ‘Tea,’ he said, handing her a little parcel ‘Lapsang Suchong – half a pound of it. Bartered in what strange eastern markets, I know not. But the genuine article. I have a friend at our headquarters who gets me some from time to time. We must go easy with it, Mrs Embury, but I think we might “brew up” for “the Major”.’
    They went upstairs and sat in the drawing-room.
    ‘No doubt you want to hear my opinion of your
“Pensées”
.’
    ‘I want to hear Everard Spruce’s.’
    ‘Yes, of course, I deserved that little snub. Well, prepare yourself for good news – Everard is delighted with them and wants to publish them in
Survival
. He is quite content to leave them anonymous. The only thing he doesn’t quite like is the title.’
    ‘
Pensées
,’ said Ludovic. ‘D’you know what they call our badge?’ He tapped the floral device on the lapel of his tunic. ‘“A pansy sitting on its laurels”.’
    ‘Yes, yes. Very good. I have heard the witticism before. No; Everard thinks it dated. He suggests “Notes in Transit” or something of the sort.’
    ‘I don’t see it matters.’
    ‘No. But he’s definitely interested in you. Wants to meet. In fact I tentatively accepted an invitation for you this evening. I shan’t, alas, be able to introduce you. But you’re expected. I’ll give you the address. I am expecting another visitor here.’
    ‘Curly?’
    ‘They call him “Susie” at the headquarters. No, not Susie. He’s a dear boy and a stalwart party member but a little earnest for the long blackout. I am packing him off to a meeting. No I expect a very intelligent young American named Padfield – an officer,
like you
.’
    Mrs Embury brought in the tea, and the little, over-furnished room was full of its fragrance.
    ‘I can’t offer you anything to eat I’m afraid.’
    ‘I know better than come to London for food,’ said Ludovic. ‘We do all right at my billet.’ He had learned his officer’s voice from Sir Ralph but seldom used it when they were alone. ‘Mrs Embury isn’t very matey these days?’
    ‘It’s your high rank. She doesn’t know how to take it. And you, what have you been up to?’
    ‘I went to the Abbey before I came here – to see the sword.’
    ‘Yes, I suppose like everyone else you are coming to appreciate the Soviet achievement. You usen’t to have much share in my “red” sympathies. We nearly had a tiff once, remember? about Spain.’
    ‘There were Spaniards in the Middle East – proper bastards.’ Ludovic stopped short remembering what he resolutely strove to forget. ‘It wasn’t anything to do with politics. That sword is the subject of this week’s literary competition in
Time and Tide
– a sonnet. I thought if I went to see it, I might get some ideas.’
    ‘Oh dear, don’t tell Everard Spruce about that. I’m afraid he would look down his nose at Literary competitions in
Time and Tide
.’
    ‘I just like writing,’ said Ludovic. ‘In different ways about different things. Nothing wrong with that, I suppose?’
    ‘No, indeed. The literary instinct. But don’t tell Everard. Did you get any ideas?’
    ‘Not what I could use in a sonnet. But it set me thinking – about swords.’
    ‘That wasn’t quite their idea; not, as they say now, the object of the exercise. You were meant to think about tanks and bombers and the People’s Army driving out the Nazis.’
    ‘I thought of
my
sword,’ said Ludovic stubbornly. ‘Technically, I suppose, it was a sabre. We called them “swords” – “state swords”. Never saw it again after I left the regiment. They weren’t reissued when we were recalled. Took a lot of looking after, a sword. Every now and then the armourer had them in and buffed them; ordinary days it was Bluebell and the chain-burnisher. Mustn’t leave a spot on it. You