The clock struck twelve and the door behind him opened.

'Richard! By all the G.o.ds! Richard!' Sharpe turned, startled by the good-natured interruption. A one-armed man, elegantly dressed in civilian clothes; a handsome man, smiling in unforced welcome, faced him. 'My dear Sharpe! I had business with the Adjutant General and the porter told me you were here!'

'Sir!' Sharpe smiled in genuine pleasure.

'My dear Richard! How very good to see you, and almost properly dressed!'

Sharpe shook the one hand. 'How are you, sir?'

'My dear fellow! I'm wondrously healthy. You look very good yourself, very good indeed.' The Honourable William Lawford was pumping Sharpe's hand up and down. 'Except for your face. Had a fight with a cat?'

Lawford was plumper than in the days when he had been the South Ess.e.x's Lieutenant Colonel, and much plumper than when he had been a Lieutenant in India and Sharpe had been his Sergeant. They had been imprisoned together by the Sultan Tippoo, and in those days Lieutenant Lawford had been thin as a ramrod. Now, out of the army, and evidently prospering as a civilian, he had spread in the waist and his handsome face was rounded with good living and success. 'What are you doing here, Richard?'

'I'm hoping to see the Duke.'

'My dear fellow! You'll wait in vain! He's gone to Windsor and I doubt we'll see him again this week. You'll take some lunch?'

Sharpe hesitated, but Lawford's certainty that the Duke would not be returning to the Horse Guards swayed him. 'Yes, sir.'

'Splendid.'

Lawford had a carriage; a rich, high, open vehicle drawn by four horses and driven by liveried servants. They crossed the parade ground at a fast clip and Lawford raised his cane to acknowledge a greeting from a horseman who came from the park. He smiled at Sharpe. 'I heard you were in London. You saw Prinny, yes?'

'Yes.'

'What a fool he is! Almost took my head off with the sword when he gave me the knighthood.' He laughed, but Sharpe sensed that the true message being given was that Lawford was now Sir William.

'You were knighted?'

'Yes.' Lawford smiled modestly at Sharpe's evident admiration. 'All nonsense, of course, but Jessica approves.'

Sharpe gestured at the coach they sat in. 'You must be prospering, sir!'

'That's kind of you, Sharpe!' Sir William smiled. 'I've a few acres these days. I'm in the Commons, of course.' He laughed as though it was a minor thing. 'I sit as a magistrate and send a few villains to Australia as well. It keeps me busy, what? Ah! Here we are!'

They had pa.s.sed St James's Palace, stopped on the hill beyond, and servants hastened to open the carriage door. Lawford gestured Sharpe forward, then up some steps into a great hallway where Sir William was greeted by obsequious servants. It was evidently a gentlemen's club. Sharpe was relieved of his sword and ushered into the dining room.

Lawford took Sharpe's elbow. 'They do a cold spiced beef, Richard, which I really must recommend. The salmagundi is truly the best in London. Turtle soup, perhaps? Ah, this table, splendid.'

The meal was excellent. It seemed odd to think that their last meeting had been in the convent at Ciudad Rodrigo where, the city still stinking of fire and cannon-smoke, Lawford had lain in bed with his left arm newly amputated. Lawford laughed at the memory. 'Seems I was d.a.m.ned lucky to miss Badajoz, yes?'

'It was bad.'

'You survived, Richard!' Lawford raised his gla.s.s of claret and signalled with his head for the waiter to bring another bottle.

Cigars were given to them and Sharpe admiringly watched the skill with which Lawford used his one hand to clip and light the cigar. He refused to let the waiter do it, preferring, he said, always to cut his own. He blew out a plume of smoke. 'So why on earth were you trying to see York?'

Sharpe told him. He wanted to tell someone, and who better than this Member of Parliament, magistrate, and old soldier with whom he had fought on two continents.

Lawford listened, sometimes asking a question, more often prompting Sharpe to continue. His shrewd eyes watched the Rifleman and, if the story of Foulness astonished him, he took care to hide it. Indeed, the only real surprise he showed was when Sharpe described the attempt in the rookery to murder him.

When the tale was told Lawford put his cigar down and sipped at some brandy. He swirled the liquid in his gla.s.s and stared at Sharpe. 'So what's your private interest, Richard?'

'Private?' Sharpe was puzzled.

Lawford retrieved his cigar and sketched a gesture in the air, leaving a trail of smoke. 'What do you personally want out of it?'

Sharpe paused. This was not the moment to talk of Jane Gibbons, or his wish to save her from an odious marriage. 'I just want men to take to Spain. I want a Battalion to fight into France.'

'Ah!' Lawford seemed surprised that Sharpe should want nothing more. 'I see, I see. Who else have you told?'

'No one.'

'Except your Sergeant, of course. He's well, is he?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Do tell him I asked. Splendid fellow, for an Irishman.' Lawford frowned. 'You say he killed a militia man?'

'We killed one.'

Lawford smiled at the "we". 'A trifle clumsy, perhaps? Better not to have done it.'

'They were trying to kill us!'

'Bound to be questions asked, Richard, bound to be! Fellows will be up on their hind legs embarra.s.sing the government. It's really too bad.'

'Say they were chasing smugglers!' Sharpe could not understand this concern for a dead militia man that did not seem extended to Sir Henry's peculations.

'Brilliant! Smugglers! Very good, Richard. We'll do that.' He leaned forward and laid the stub of his cigar on a silver plate. 'You do have some proof of these auctions, Richard, of course? Account books, records, tedious paperwork?' He smiled.

'Accounts?'

'Proof, Richard, proof.'

'I saw it!'

Sir William shook his head slowly, then sipped his brandy. 'My dear Sharpe! All you saw were some soldiers on Simmerson's lawn! The rest is surmise!' Sharpe had said nothing about Jane Gibbons or what she had told him, though now, facing Lawford's sceptical face, he doubted whether her testimony would add any weight to his argument.

'I saw . . .'

'I know what you say,' Lawford smiled to take the sharpness from his words, 'but we shall want proof.'

Sharpe leaned back. He felt uncomfortable in this lavish room among these fat men whose chins bulged and wobbled over their silk stocks. 'I heard Lord Fenner say there was no Second Battalion, except as a paper convenience, and I've proved him wrong.'

'There is that,' Lawford smiled. 'A greedy man, Fenner. Seems as rich as Croesus, but always eager for more. Not a fellow I'd choose as an enemy, at least not without proof, eh?' choose as an enemy, at least not without proof, eh?'

'The proof is at Foulness. A day's march away!'

'I'm sure it is.' Lawford held up his one hand in a placatory gesture. His other sleeve was pinned across his coat. 'The nub is York.'

'York?'

'The Duke. Foolish Freddie.' Lawford smiled again. 'Doesn't want another scandal, that's for sure! He had to resign for two years as it was. My dear fellow, thank you.' Sharpe had poured more brandy as Lawford cut another cigar. 'I think you'd better leave it to me, Richard.' Sharpe said nothing, and Lawford leaned forward persuasively. 'Let me patrol around it, eh? Will you let me do that, Richard? Say to the end of next week?' He laughed. 'That'll give you a chance to watch Prinny's battle of Vitoria, yes? You'll enjoy that!'

Sharpe was not happy with the suggestion, but he accepted that Sir William moved in circles that understood these matters, while he was a friendless soldier in a capital city where no one cared about him. 'Why don't I just see the Duke of York?'

'Richard!' Lawford said in a pained voice. 'You'll only upset him, and you know how liverish that d.a.m.ned family is! My dear Sharpe! If I was facing a French army I'd be delighted to have your help, can't you see you need mine now? You want your men, yes?'

'Yes.'

'Then I shall do my d.a.m.nedest! I can't promise anything, of course, but I think I can extricate you. Where are you lodging, Richard?'

'Rose Tavern. It's in Drury Lane.'

'I do know where the Rose is, Richard,' Lawford said testily, then noted the name in a silver bound notebook. 'Give me two days, then meet me here for luncheon. You can do that? And don't worry about disobeying those orders to go back to Spain, I'll make sure there's no undue fuss there.'

Sharpe frowned. 'Can I ask what you propose to do, sir?'

'Do?' Lawford snapped the notebook shut. 'The proper thing, the clever thing. A few quiet words, Richard, here and there. Thank G.o.d Parliament's recessed so we can keep the whole d.a.m.ned mess secret. And you, Richard,' he stabbed at Sharpe with his fresh cigar, 'are going to do nothing. You will keep quiet. No stirring up the enemy from the skirmish line? This is London, not Spain!' He laughed. 'Perhaps we can tempt you to dine one evening? Lady Lawford would never forgive me if I didn't snare you for one night.'

'That's kind of you, sir.'

'Nonsense!' Lawford smiled. 'Just leave it all to me, Richard!' He picked up a strawberry left over from luncheon and popped it into his mouth. 'Just leave it to me.'

'Yes, sir.'

Lord Fenner met his guest in the library. His Lordship was not pleased.

Lord Fenner was in the habit of asking the Lady Camoynes to visit him in the early evening, thus leaving his nights free for the pursuit of other pleasures. This evening, as Lord Fenner closed the library door, the Lady Camoynes waited upstairs and Lord Fenner, instead of watching her undress, was forced to be polite to this unexpected and unwelcome guest. 'I usually take a gla.s.s of brandy at this hour. You'll join me?'

Sir William Lawford smiled his a.s.sent. He appraised the pictures that hung between the shelves, noting a fine small drawing of ships at sea and a very good Reynolds. 'Your mother?'

'Yes,' Lord Fenner had barked his order for the brandy. 'You said this business was urgent, Sir William?'

'I would hardly disturb your Lordship otherwise.' Lawford ignored his host's barely disguised rudeness, admiring instead a Roman bust of a woman with tightly rolled hair. Everything about this room, from its books to its fine hand-painted Chinese wallpaper, testified to the exquisite taste and wealth of Lord Fenner. Lawford accepted his brandy, waited until the steward had left, then sat in the chair Fenner offered. 'Your Lordship's most excellent health.'

'And yours.' Fenner sat down. He was dressed in a black suit, with a white silk waistcoat and stock. He tried to guess, from Lawford's demeanour, just what kind of business was so urgent as to preclude an appointment, but the younger man's face was unreadable. Fenner was remembering what he knew of Lawford; an ex-soldier who now sat in the Government's interest on the green-leather benches of the House of Commons. Fenner crossed his legs and brushed at a boot-ta.s.sel. 'You'll forgive me, Sir William, if I tell you that I have other engagements this evening?'

'Quite so,' Lawford smiled. 'I think you'll hear me out, though. We both, after all, share an interest in making certain that no scandal disturbs our administration? This is very good brandy! My smugglers bring in a most inferior article.'

'You spoke of scandal.'

Lawford stared at the thin, pale face with its aquiline nose. 'Girdwood, Foulness, auctions. You permit me to smoke?'

Lord Fenner was too astonished to offer or refuse permission. He said nothing until Lawford had cut and lit a cigar with his one hand, then he made his nasal voice deliberately calm. 'You confuse me, Sir William.'

'Confuse you?'

'You play at riddles like a child.'

Lawford shrugged apologetically. He was nervous. This handsome lord, a government minister, conveyed such an air of elegant gravity that it seemed unthinkable that he should be bound up in so squalid an affair as Foulness. Lawford smiled. 'I do not, for one moment, sir, imagine that you know of what I speak. Let us, though, a.s.sume that you have some influence over those who might? Sir Henry Simmerson, perhaps?'

Lord Fenner showed none of the relief that he felt. Lawford was showing his cards, and though the first cards had horrified Fenner, this last demonstrated that Sir William did not seek his disgrace. Fenner's voice was still cold and toneless. 'We can a.s.sume that, Sir William.'

Lawford, who had half-expected to be forcibly ejected from the house, even challenged to a duel, knew now that Sharpe's accusations were right. Lord Fenner had admitted nothing, but the very fact that he would talk proclaimed that there was much to admit. Sir William rested his cigar to take up the brandy. 'Should news of Sir Henry's peculations at Foulness become public, my Lord, I need hardly tell you the result.' Nor did he; another scandal to rock the government, cries of treason, of corruption, of demands for enquiries and G.o.d knows what else.

Fenner sat very still. 'How could it become public?'

'Because Major Richard Sharpe is in full knowledge of the facts.' Sir William smiled. 'He attempted to see the Duke of York today. York's aide sent for me, knowing that I had been Sharpe's commanding officer, and I have, so far, kept him silent. You owe me thanks for that.'

Fenner somehow managed to hide his horror. Sharpe was alive? His Lordship had thought it strange that his hired a.s.sa.s.sins had not come to collect their reward, but nor had Sharpe ever appeared again and Fenner had persuaded himself that the troublesome Rifleman was safely dead.

The door to the drawing room creaked ajar and Fenner supposed that Anne Camoynes was listening there. G.o.d d.a.m.n her! He dared not close the door lest the movement be interpreted as nervousness and, to cover his astonishment and consternation, he lit a cigar for himself and forced insouciance into his voice. 'You say Sharpe spoke to you?'

'At great length. A very remarkable man, my Lord. I knew him as a sergeant. He has a talent for battle, but not, I think, for politics.' Lawford smiled as though such a lack in a man was to be pitied. 'He is an intemperate fellow, often foolhardy, and not easily dissuaded. He pointed out to me, with commendable pa.s.sion, the need for veteran Battalions to be kept in Spain. His own Battalion, as your Lordship knows, is in danger of dismemberment and he feels, not without cause, that it has yet a great contribution to make in the invasion of France. If he feels that it is being deliberately denied replacements, then he could make an unwelcome noise. Your Lordship comprehends me?'

Fenner nodded. How, in G.o.d's name, had Sharpe discovered Foulness? Fenner would dearly love to know, yet to ask was to reveal too great a concern.

'Fortunately,' Lawford went on, 'he has no absolute proof, so his opportunity for embarra.s.sing our government is slight. He has agreed to do nothing until the day after tomorrow, my Lord, and to leave the resolution of this affair entirely in my hands.'

Fenner bowed to Lawford, a gesture that did express relief, for now he knew what he must deal with. Not with some rogue Rifleman whose pa.s.sion and enmity scared His Lordship, but with another politician, a man who understood that compromise was the very finest of the arts. 'You have suggestions, Sir William?'

'Mere thoughts,' Sir William smiled. 'I really do not know if there is anything amiss at Foulness. A strange name, yes?' Lord Fenner smiled, for the words told him that Sir William had not come to preach morality, but to make his bargain. Lawford drew on his cigar. 'My concern is with Major Sharpe. I owe him a great deal, sir, including my life. You will sympathise with my wish to extricate him from this entanglement. I would not want him punished, nor in any way see his career harmed, indeed, I would like to see it advanced. If he is guilty of anything, my Lord, it is merely an excessive devotion to his duty.'

Lord Fenner nodded. 'You say he is in London?'

'I did not. I said he has agreed to do nothing until I speak to him in two days.'

'What does he want?'

'His Battalion.'

Lord Fenner knew that now he had to play a card of his own. 'But if there is no Battalion, Sir William, he cannot have it.' Fenner's gaze was challenging.

Lawford knew that Lord Fenner, by his last statement, was saying that the physical evidence at Foulness, the men, the camp itself, all signs of the hidden Battalion, would be removed. The men would be sent to different depots throughout Britain, dispersed in sections, while the tents and buildings would be destroyed. There could be no disgrace for Lord Fenner, for there would be no evidence of any kind. Lawford smiled. 'I thought, my Lord, that he might be given command of a Rifle Battalion in the American war? We need good men over there.'

'America?' Lord Fenner thought it would do very well; a minor, sc.r.a.ppy war being fought three thousand miles away. No one cared what happened in America. 'We could doubtless arrange such a thing, so long as he keeps silent about this preposterous business.'

'If there's no evidence, my Lord, what does it matter?'

Fenner said nothing. There was only one proof that could destroy him, and that was the secret records of the Battalion auctions, and they, he knew, were safe. Even if Major Sharpe should produce the men themselves, what could they prove? They were listed as a Holding Battalion, so the men were accounted for. The officers might bleat about auctions, yet they had taken the money and so risked punishment, while not one officer, apart from Girdwood, knew of His Lordship's involvement.

Sir William tossed his cigar into the empty hearth. 'I have your permission to return and speak with you tomorrow, my Lord? I would not ask you for a precipitate decision.'