had collected a burglar’s toolkit, including an immense jemmy of which I was inordinately proud. With loving care I had made a sling that left the jemmy hanging its 24 inches from my oxter to my trouser pocket. The only trouble was that when I bent down it was prone to slide from its sling. The files, wire, hacksaw, wrench, etc., I carefully stowed about my person until I was fully equipped with the tools of my new profession. Then I would put on my coat, go down to the little cafe in Gibson Street and talk to my friends, with the delicious cold steel against me, and a private thin smile of sheer joy on my lips.
While I was running needless risks in cafes, Gavin was not idle. He had made arrangements to hire a car to take us to London. This would be the car we would use outside the Abbey, so it did not need to be particularly powerful. In London I had already arranged to hire the bigger car that we would need to transport the Stone to its hiding place on Dartmoor.
All this preparation was very costly, and I suddenly realised that our money was running out. I could not for the life of me approach our original benefactor, for £50 was more than I cared to take from him. I knew, however, who would be equally ready to help. I called again on Councillor Gray.
He was eager for news and greatly disturbed to hear that Kay was coming with us, for he seemed to feel a rough sort ofresponsibility for all the workers in the self-government movement. I quickly assured him that Kay had not been press-ganged, and thereafter, although his uneasiness grumbled away in his mind, it only occasionally erupted into complaint.
I left an uneasy Bertie who was suddenly poorer by £30. That was, I feel sure, of no consequence to him at the time, as he was the most generous of men. What was on his mind was our safety, and he would willingly have come with us to look after us had I not pointed out that the Vice-Chairman of the Covenant could never involve himself in illegality.
Having seen Bill and arranged a code to use if I had to telephone him from London, we were now ready to depart. That night, Thursday, 21 December 1950, Gavin and Kay and I met to hold our last council before leaving. We parted early, since it would be the last full night’s sleep we would have for many days.
The next morning I rose full of excitement, as this was to be the great day. It was cold and dismal, with a hint of raw frost, and although I knew that I had many miles to drive that night I was not dismayed. Nothing could stop us now. Not frost nor snow, nor the weather nor our plans, and not even ourselves because the decision had been made.
My mood of exultation was to some extent sullied by Gavin, however, for I discovered that instead of meeting me as arranged, he was still sleeping soundly in his bed. I went to his lodgings and had him out. Anger, friendship and amazement that he could sleep while I was racked with excitement fought within me, but friendship won. The morning was ours and there was little cause for hurry.
Towards lunchtime we went down to the garage in Pitt Street and collected our hired car. We were rather disturbed when we saw it. It was an eight-horsepower Ford and at least 12 years old. We could not find anything definitely wrong with it, and it was all we could afford. The engine pulled well, so we took it, but with a feeling of trepidation lest it should not stand up to the tests wewere to put it to. Gavin went away to get used to it as he was to be driver-in-chief, and, having arranged to meet at 3 p.m., we parted, and I went home to pack my lovely toolkit.
That afternoon at three o’clock I went to meet Gavin as arranged. To my dismay and impatience, when I got there he was talking to a tall, finely built young fellow, with a frank boyish face and a crop of golden hair. I hesitated on the street corner in an agony of anger. I had known that Gavin had told some of his friends where he was going, and I had accepted his assurances that
While I was running needless risks in cafes, Gavin was not idle. He had made arrangements to hire a car to take us to London. This would be the car we would use outside the Abbey, so it did not need to be particularly powerful. In London I had already arranged to hire the bigger car that we would need to transport the Stone to its hiding place on Dartmoor.
All this preparation was very costly, and I suddenly realised that our money was running out. I could not for the life of me approach our original benefactor, for £50 was more than I cared to take from him. I knew, however, who would be equally ready to help. I called again on Councillor Gray.
He was eager for news and greatly disturbed to hear that Kay was coming with us, for he seemed to feel a rough sort ofresponsibility for all the workers in the self-government movement. I quickly assured him that Kay had not been press-ganged, and thereafter, although his uneasiness grumbled away in his mind, it only occasionally erupted into complaint.
I left an uneasy Bertie who was suddenly poorer by £30. That was, I feel sure, of no consequence to him at the time, as he was the most generous of men. What was on his mind was our safety, and he would willingly have come with us to look after us had I not pointed out that the Vice-Chairman of the Covenant could never involve himself in illegality.
Having seen Bill and arranged a code to use if I had to telephone him from London, we were now ready to depart. That night, Thursday, 21 December 1950, Gavin and Kay and I met to hold our last council before leaving. We parted early, since it would be the last full night’s sleep we would have for many days.
The next morning I rose full of excitement, as this was to be the great day. It was cold and dismal, with a hint of raw frost, and although I knew that I had many miles to drive that night I was not dismayed. Nothing could stop us now. Not frost nor snow, nor the weather nor our plans, and not even ourselves because the decision had been made.
My mood of exultation was to some extent sullied by Gavin, however, for I discovered that instead of meeting me as arranged, he was still sleeping soundly in his bed. I went to his lodgings and had him out. Anger, friendship and amazement that he could sleep while I was racked with excitement fought within me, but friendship won. The morning was ours and there was little cause for hurry.
Towards lunchtime we went down to the garage in Pitt Street and collected our hired car. We were rather disturbed when we saw it. It was an eight-horsepower Ford and at least 12 years old. We could not find anything definitely wrong with it, and it was all we could afford. The engine pulled well, so we took it, but with a feeling of trepidation lest it should not stand up to the tests wewere to put it to. Gavin went away to get used to it as he was to be driver-in-chief, and, having arranged to meet at 3 p.m., we parted, and I went home to pack my lovely toolkit.
That afternoon at three o’clock I went to meet Gavin as arranged. To my dismay and impatience, when I got there he was talking to a tall, finely built young fellow, with a frank boyish face and a crop of golden hair. I hesitated on the street corner in an agony of anger. I had known that Gavin had told some of his friends where he was going, and I had accepted his assurances that
Similar Books
