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Updated: May 26, 2025
It was undoubtedly Preblesham calling me on some routine matter, but it served to distract attention from the still muttering old lady and give her a chance to subside. Preblesham's voice came in a bodiless waver over the miles. "A W? Can you hear me? I can give you a tip. Just about three hours ahead of the radio and newspapers. Can you understand me?
I expected the news to break and end our efforts at any moment, but the quickness with which I had seized upon Preblesham's information confirmed the proverb about the early bird; the threehour reprieve stretched to five and by the time Havas flashed the news I had liquefied almost all of my now worthless assets and to potential financial rivals.
A wave of madness, akin to the plague of the Grass, must be sweeping over the earth, was my conclusion. If General Thario's desertion had thrown an extra weight on my shoulders, Preblesham's burdened me with all the petty details of routine.
Black said she was too busy. "I will be in London to meet you on the 1st as arranged & give you any further news you want. Until then, I remain, Yrs. Truly, A. Preblesham, Vice-Pres. in Chge of Field Operations, Cons. Pem." I cannot say Preblesham's report was particularly enlightening, but it at least squelched any notion the Grass might be dying of itself.
The process of closing down our plants was more complicated than had been anticipated and Thario's military mind would have been more useful than Preblesham's theological one.
But the setting up of depots in the Sahara, as General Thario had suggested, and by extension, in Arabia, was a different matter. Here Preblesham's genius shone. He flew our whole Australian store of raw materials out without a loss. He recruited gangs of Chinese coolies with an efficiency which would have put an oldtime blackbirder to shame.
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