An Officer's Room in Belem

"He is on parole, and he attaches the utmost importance to his honour - it is the only thing he has left," Stephen said carefully. "He knows that you are an exploring officer, as would any French agent who wished to know, and there is little more he can say about you; he said that he would pray for your swift recovery, quite sincerely." He took a deep breath. "He regards me as the key player in the operation, as far as intelligence goes, but I do not think he will betray me either."

"That is some sort of reassurance then," the captain said, though he did not sound convinced.

"At the moment, Capitaine des Sablières needs us more than we need him, if you wish it to be phrased in the most practical of terms," Stephen said with some distaste.

"I suppose that may be a way of putting it. Has Pumphrey actually threatened him? Specifically?"

"I do not know; I was not there. Whatever was said, or implied, des Sablières felt threatened, and he is not entirely without intelligence or discernment."

"Hm."

Padstowe's gaze returned to the pale patch of moonlight on the ceiling.

"So what can be done?" he asked after a pause. "With the General and Hogan away I can offer no protection - other than my word. We could authorise a guard on him, but that won't do much good against Pumphrey - seeing he's theoretically on our side."

"I am beginning to wonder," said Stephen quietly, "if we might not bring him with us when we rejoin the rest of the army. Until then, once I have found and decoded the list of informers I will be at work in the city at night. I will look after him as best as I am able."

"Bring him with us?" Padstowe's gaze snapped back to the doctor. "What as? Towing around a prisoner on the march is not an easy task!"

"I never considered that it would be," Stephen said calmly. "But I believe his life is in danger if he is left here. He will not violate his parole."

"But what will we do with him?"

"We will keep him alive, Jonathan. He has a friend - the Colonel of the 62nd - I am sure he would aid us."

"Yes, Edrington."

He had forgotten the colonel. Yes, the protection of an English peer would go some way, even though Pumphrey theoretically outranked a mere Earl.

"Just so. Until then, there are too many variables at work, and I do not know enough, but I will do everything in my power to keep him safe. He is a good man, despite his admittedly terrible mistakes," said Stephen, removing the top sheet from the pile of paper.

"I do not know him well enough to make that judgement," Padstowe said, settling back against the pillows. "You do, though, and I shall take your word that he is. Yet Even if he were merely a mediocre man, for all our sakes he must be preserved."

And for my honour's sake, he thought gloomily.

Stephen smiled. "Thank you, Jonathan." He scratched behind his ear with his pencil, and then bent low over the paper.

"Have you had enough to eat?" he drawled as his concentrated on the first line of letters.

"Yes, thank you."

He probably hadn't by Maturin's standards, but by his he had.

Stephen made a tiny noise of victory, and began to scribble frantically. "And to drink? Do you need anything?"

"Some more water, perhaps, but apart from that I am fine."

The doctor had obviously made a breakthrough with his work, and Padstowe returned to staring at the ceiling, wondering whether he could convince himself to sleep before Maturin made him take the 'dose'. If push came to shove, feigning sleep would do.

"I will be with you in the briefest of moments..." said Stephen as he jotted down the last few numbers in the margin of the page. "There." He stood up, and walked over to the water jug.

Padstowe made a noise of affirmation, then closed his eyes and sighed, slowing his breathing, relaxing his muscles as much as he could. Perhaps, if he let his mind just wander instead of concentrating...

"Here," said Stephen, holding out a cup of water. "Do you need help to drink it?"

Padstowe jerked awake suddenly where he had started to fall asleep, startled by Stephen voice.

"Wha'?"

"You said you wanted some water," said Stephen, pleased that Padstowe could fall asleep so quickly.

"Oh, yes."

Padstowe reached up his right hand unsteadily for the glass, doing his best to ignore the discomfort it caused, but the movement upset his ribs, starting a slight wheezing cough as it caught his breath.

Stephen gave up, and kindly reached under his head. "Here, now, do not try if it hurts."