was peopled with strange figures. There are many ways of celebrating Christmas. The streets were quieter as we went west, and Whitehall was long and oily dark and empty. The only traffic was the occasional police car coming andgoing from Scotland Yard. Outside the War Office, we pulled in to the kerb, and Kay and I went into the Anglia to sit with the other two in our last council of war. I took the jemmy with me, hiding it under my coat. From there, I slid it under the front seat of the Anglia. We were all flushed with past excitement, and even I was eager for more, all doubts gone. Although we had been delayed, the timing still synchronised with our calculations. Four o’clock rang from Big Ben. If our estimations were correct, the watchman should have finished his rounds.
Since the detective had taken my name and address and the number of the car I was driving, we decided to use the Anglia for the whole job. The Anglia was unknown to the police, and even if it were spotted in suspicious circumstances outside the Abbey, it was a common brand of car, and had a chance of slipping through. It would take the police some time to do all the routine work to connect us to it. We reckoned that we had a good 12 hours, and maybe more, before that happened. Strangely, it was a connection they never made. It was unfortunate that we had now only one effective car, but we had to accept that. We decided, also, that since I had had my name taken by the police, I would set out west for Wales in the identified car as a decoy, while the others headed south-west for Dartmoor with the Stone.
Having agreed our strategy, we moved. I parked my car in the car park along Millbank from the Abbey, and carefully locked it and put the keys in my overcoat pocket. The detective had said there were thieves about, and I was prepared to believe him. I would need the car later. When I had secured it, I rejoined the others in the Anglia.
Old Palace Yard was deserted, so we did not need to make a dummy run. Alan swung the Anglia straight into the lane and, halfway up, switched out the lights. At the top he manoeuvred it round skilfully in the restricted space. The engine reverberated terrifyingly off the Abbey walls, as the Ford was a noisy little car, but when it was turned, with its bonnet pointing into the lane, it seemedso small beside the soaring buttresses that we were certain it would not be seen. We got out and Kay slipped into the driving seat.
Ignoring the long way round through the mason’s yard, the three of us vaulted the high railings, crossed past the lamp post, and stood crucified by its light against the shining door. At least we should not work in darkness.
Gavin put his shoulder to the door. ‘The jemmy,’ he hissed.
I turned to Alan.
‘The jemmy!’
‘What?’ said Alan. ‘I thought you had it.’
Sheepishly, I returned to the Anglia and got it from under the seat where I had hidden it 10 minutes before.
At first we made little impression on the door. The two halves met closely, and were covered with a lath of wood, which ran all the way over the join from top to bottom. But I knew that this was the one door in the Abbey that was of pine, and not of oak as the others were. It should be forcible. We were desperately afraid of noise, and each creak sounded like a hammer blow. Inside the Abbey it must have resounded loudly enough to waken the British dead. You could hear them stirring and sitting up. We ignored the noise and worked on. First we prised off the covering lath of wood, and then with the sharp end of the jemmy we chewed away sufficient space to allow us to force the blade between the two sections of the door. Then the three of us put our weight on the end of the jemmy, and the door began to give a series of creaks, each of which sounded like the report of a shotgun. At each creak we expected a police car to sweep up the lane, summoned by the watchman. Let it come. We had already done more than most.
I could now put
Since the detective had taken my name and address and the number of the car I was driving, we decided to use the Anglia for the whole job. The Anglia was unknown to the police, and even if it were spotted in suspicious circumstances outside the Abbey, it was a common brand of car, and had a chance of slipping through. It would take the police some time to do all the routine work to connect us to it. We reckoned that we had a good 12 hours, and maybe more, before that happened. Strangely, it was a connection they never made. It was unfortunate that we had now only one effective car, but we had to accept that. We decided, also, that since I had had my name taken by the police, I would set out west for Wales in the identified car as a decoy, while the others headed south-west for Dartmoor with the Stone.
Having agreed our strategy, we moved. I parked my car in the car park along Millbank from the Abbey, and carefully locked it and put the keys in my overcoat pocket. The detective had said there were thieves about, and I was prepared to believe him. I would need the car later. When I had secured it, I rejoined the others in the Anglia.
Old Palace Yard was deserted, so we did not need to make a dummy run. Alan swung the Anglia straight into the lane and, halfway up, switched out the lights. At the top he manoeuvred it round skilfully in the restricted space. The engine reverberated terrifyingly off the Abbey walls, as the Ford was a noisy little car, but when it was turned, with its bonnet pointing into the lane, it seemedso small beside the soaring buttresses that we were certain it would not be seen. We got out and Kay slipped into the driving seat.
Ignoring the long way round through the mason’s yard, the three of us vaulted the high railings, crossed past the lamp post, and stood crucified by its light against the shining door. At least we should not work in darkness.
Gavin put his shoulder to the door. ‘The jemmy,’ he hissed.
I turned to Alan.
‘The jemmy!’
‘What?’ said Alan. ‘I thought you had it.’
Sheepishly, I returned to the Anglia and got it from under the seat where I had hidden it 10 minutes before.
At first we made little impression on the door. The two halves met closely, and were covered with a lath of wood, which ran all the way over the join from top to bottom. But I knew that this was the one door in the Abbey that was of pine, and not of oak as the others were. It should be forcible. We were desperately afraid of noise, and each creak sounded like a hammer blow. Inside the Abbey it must have resounded loudly enough to waken the British dead. You could hear them stirring and sitting up. We ignored the noise and worked on. First we prised off the covering lath of wood, and then with the sharp end of the jemmy we chewed away sufficient space to allow us to force the blade between the two sections of the door. Then the three of us put our weight on the end of the jemmy, and the door began to give a series of creaks, each of which sounded like the report of a shotgun. At each creak we expected a police car to sweep up the lane, summoned by the watchman. Let it come. We had already done more than most.
I could now put
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