Nathan coughed and looked at his watch. “Shall we turn on t’wireless?” he suggested.
England lay under the threat of invasion. Warned by the dreadful fate of Holland and Belgium, the British Government were taking precautions against parachutists. Every road, every village, must be guarded; all open spaces must be watched by patrols. Concrete road blocks were to be made, barbed wire to twine round them provided; road signs were to be obliterated, maps withdrawn from circulation. Leaflets were being printed instructing householders what to do in case invasion came. The hills and dales of the West Riding were too steep and confused to be suitable for hostile aircraft landings, but their stretches of wild moorland, remote from the eyes but near the sites of towns, were ideal for paratroops and must be watched. Morcar was so busy with details of L.D.V. organisation, with indenting for weapons, with arranging training, with discussing sites and enrolling new members, that there were days when he had barely time to eat or sleep, and entered Syke Mills only at odd moments for hurried conferences with Nathan. This was such a day; he had driven himself away from Stanney Royd on L.D.V. business before seven that morning without even seeing a newspaper, and had been on the rush ever since. Accordingly he welcomed Nathan’s reminder cordially.
“Aye, do,” he cried. “Perhaps we shall hear by now what France has decided.”
“Nay—we heard that on t’last bulletin, Mr. Morcar,” said Nathan stolidly. “France has asked for an Armistice.”
“Oh,” said Morcar flatly. He felt a tide of blood rushing to the surface of his body. France! Gone! France! We shall be invaded in a week, thought Morcar. Well! Let ’em come, damn them! Aloud he said in a mild tone: “So we’re alone in the fight now, seemingly.”
“Aye—the others have all gone down,” said Nathan.
There was a pause.
“Well—we know where we are now, anyway,” said Morcar.
“That’s right,” agreed Nathan, nodding. He stretched out his hand and turned the knob of the neat wall radio which Morcar had installed in the Syke Mills office, without further comment.
“Nathan takes it very well, I must say,” thought Morcar admiringly.