Free Black August by Dennis Wheatley

bank was chock-a-block with people then.’
    â€˜But why the panic, lovie?’ inquired Veronica.
    â€˜Well, I knew there would be a rush, and it’s just possible that they may not be able to stand it.’
    Hay-Symple swallowed the remainder of his second cocktail, ‘I don’t see why—we’re not on gold.’
    â€˜Gold has nothing to do with it. The loans made by the banks are always bigger than their deposits—which is a strange situation anyway, but if they can’t collect their loans they are stuck—whatever they are paying out in. They need time to realise their stock just like any other business.’
    â€˜I should think it will put the lid on it if they do close down.’
    Kenyon’s reply was cut short by the reappearance of the footman, ‘Mr. Hetherington, milady.’
    â€˜Hullo, Peter—Hullo!—Hullo! …’
    â€˜Hullo, darling … Hullo, Kenyon …’ the greetings flew round.
    Hetherington smiled affectionately as he took Veronica’s hand, ‘Look here, my dear—I’ve only come in to collect Fiona—you must forgive me if I don’t stay.’
    â€˜Why the hurry, Peter my love, someone chasing you with a writ?’
    â€˜Perish the thought! No, but I want to take her back to pack.’ He turned and stooped over his wife’s chair; ‘I’ve just left your old man at the club, my sweetheart, and we both agree that it will be best if I motor you up to Scotland tonight.’
    My sainted aunt!’ shrieked Veronica. ‘Am I tight or have we all gone mad?’
    Hetherington turned to her with a grave face. ‘Honestly, my dear, we’re in for trouble, and I mean to have Fiona out of it. Up in the Highlands among her own people on the West Coast she’ll be safe—whatever happens in the towns.’
    â€˜You stupid darling!’ Fiona smiled up at her large husband, but the protest was a caress and the sharp eyes of Lady Veronica Wensleadale, which never missed a trick, caught anxiety and adoration in the quick glance of the man as he bent over his wife.
    Kenyon broke the momentary tension. ‘Well, there’s always time for a drink—do you really know anything, Peter?’
    â€˜Yes. I had it over the private wire half an hour ago that the Reds have dynamited the Bradfield and Redmires dams. So Sheffield will be half under water by now.’
    Veronica stared at him blankly. ‘But, darling, Sheffield’s nowhere near the sea!’
    â€˜Of course not—I’m talking about the reservoirs. When Dale Dyke burst in 1864, nearly three hundred people were drowned and a half a million pounds’ worth of property destroyed. This will be even worse with two dams gone—and they’ve probably blown up the Ewden dam as well by now.’
    â€˜Oh, just think of those poor people,’ Fiona sighed. ‘What is going to happen to us all?’
    â€˜God knows,’ said Hetherington grimly. ‘Anyhow I mean to have you out of it. The result of the Admiralty decision looks like the last straw to me.’
    â€˜Need we talk about that?’ Hay-Symple stiffened slightly. His voice was sharp, and his eyes had gone suddenly cold.
    â€˜It’s—er—common knowledge, isn’t it?’ Hetherington hesitated.
    â€˜What is it—do tell us!’ came an excited chorus.
    The soldier shrugged. ‘All right—if it’s got out already, may as well tell ‘em. It’s a pity though that these things can’t be kept quiet. They only make people panic.’
    â€˜Come on, big boy—spill the beans!’ Veronica broke into the Americanese she sometimes affected as an alternative to her proficient Cockney.
    â€˜Well, you know all leave was cancelled last Saturday by the mobilisation telegram. It seems that quite a big proportion of the men failed to rejoin their ships. Fearing further trouble theAdmiralty ordered