Coimbra

George felt like he was suffocating from pain. He doubled up and slid slowly to his knees. When the first wave of blinding pain passed he laughed, gasping, at his own stupidity. He should have killed the man instead of offering him a doctor.

The man sighed in relief, levering himself up off the floor and groan and he got to his feet.

"Now you no play with girls," he said bitterly. "Nor me. Goodnight, senhor."

And he limped away, dropping Hunter's other knife a safe distance away and turned another corner, out of sight and swallowed by the darkness.

Slowly George stood up and went to pick up his knife. Then going back the way he came he found Firebird and his second knife. Wincing he wiped some of the blood on his face with his shirt.

Walking back to the Headquarters was a little difficult, but he fought the remains of the pain. Spy or no spy in hand, he was going to make some noise. George smiled to himself.

The guards at the entrance hesitated before letting him in, for he looked a right fright. His breeches still wet, his shirt dirtied, just as his face was. Throwing Firebird's reins to one of them. George caught another guard and growled.
'Go, find Major Hogan. I don't care if he is asleep. It's urgent.' With that he leaned against a corridor wall, still feeling out of sorts aftet the humiliating blow.

The man limped on, wincing and gasping as he went. Dear God in Heaven, but that was close! He had not expected such danger with a simple tailing job - and where did he learn to through a knife like that? What office knew how to throw knives??

He turned a corner, havin taken a back route circling towards Huinter's digs, and arrived, panting in the sidestreet where he'd began that night.

Only it seemed the beggar had moved from his place by the stable yard and into the alleyway. The filthy face looked up at the approaching man hopefully.

"A little kindeness, sir?"

"Shut it!" the injured man snapped in English. "I'm not in the mood!"

The beggar shrugged.

"Worth a try," he said, also in English. "Somebody gave me a dollar today. A whole dollar! Can you believe it?"

"I'm sure you're thrilled," the man said sliding down the wall and slumping neck to the beggar with a groan. The beggar frowned.

"What happened?"

"He caught me, that's what!" the man snarled. "Little beast that he is! Tied me to his horse and would have dragged me back to Hogan, but I escaped. Followed me though, and threw knives at me! Threw knives! Two - one in my shoulder, the second in my leg." The man gave a low laugh and narrowed his eyes. "But I got him in the end. Got him straight in the balls."

The beggar's frown deepened, and his urged his colleague forward, peering at the wound in his back, and then at the one in his leg.

"You need to see a surgeon, Harry," he said seriously. "As soon as possible. Go to Marta's house and send a report on from there; I'll keep station here."

George waited for the guard to return. With Hogan preferably. The other man looked at him with open curiosity, and seemed like he wanted to ask something but George glared at him warningly.

However painful the blow to his groin was, the man showed definite reluctance to hurt him and this confirmed George's suspicions about the spys being Hogan's and therefore Wellesley's. It was amusing but it was also annoying, especilally after tonight's mess. The only to ged rid of his 'tail' was to kill him, no questions asked and George did not want to. He had his own rules about who and when to kill and he followed them strictly.

"Captain Hunter," Hogan appeared finally, somewhat bleary eyed, his uniform jacket over his nightshirt and a nightcap still tied to his head. "I undersrtand you have something urgent to report - though why it has to be this time of night..."

George straightened, wincing slightly.
'Because, I'd like to report while I am still alive, sir.' Responded George somewhat sarcastically. 'I took Firebird for a swim down at the river, sir. A man approached me rather stealthily, while I was lying down after having taken a fall. I thought he was going to rob me at first, but when I 'detained' him, he confessed that he has been paid to follow me. By a short Portuguese man with black hair, who apparently objected to me playing with his non-existent daughter.'

George smirked. 'I did not believe a word of it and I was bringing him to the headquarters to be questioned. On the way here, he escaped. I tried to stop him, we fought, but unfortunately, even with two wounds, he was managed to disable me and run off.' George wince at the memory. 'I think that the fact that one of the ADC's is being 'tailed' is little disturbing, sir.'

Hogan looked Hunter up and down, taking in his bruised and bleeding noze and awkward gait.

"Indeed it is, captain," he said seriously. He beckoned Hunter to follow him and led him into a side room across the corridor. Inside he lit a candle and searched for paper and a pencil.

"Do you have a description of your assailant?" Hogan asked, when he had located the necessary items.

[OOC: I have no idea what he looks like? Can I make it up? Tell me if you want something changed, ok? ]

'Medium height, dark hair. Spoke with a portuguese accent but I doubt he is local. Knife wound under the right shoulder and a knife wound in his left thigh. Also might have bruising around his neck.' George wanted to snap that Hogan knew perfectly well what the man looked like, but restrained himself.

[OOC: Sounds fine to me.]

Hogan dilligently scribbled down what Hunter said.

"And you said you were taking your horse for a swim? How long ago was that?"

'I left the headquarters at about five minutes past eleven, sir.' George licked the drying blood off his lips, staring at the paper that was slowly filling up with notes.

"Hmm-mm." Hogan continued making notes in his scrawl. "And he followed you from your house, or did you pick him up en route?"

George cocked his head.
'Probably followed me from here. I told Colonel Brandon earlier that I felt like I was being watched since morning, but until the man approached me, I thought I was imagining things.'

Hogan looked up from his paper at that, raising his eyebrows.

"And you told Colonel Brandon? Dear God, lad, why didn't you come and see me? Could have got this fellow long before now!"

George could not help but admire Hogan's acting skills.
'As I said, sir, I thought I was imagining things. I cannot fathom why would anyone want to 'tail' me. Besides, Colonel Brandon was inclined to agree with me.'

"That you were imagining things?"

Hogan shook his head.

"Brandon's a sensible one alright, but sometimes..."

He shook his head again.

"Still, I'm glad you manage to blood the bastard a little, even if you got landed a few yourself."

'Are you, sir? I am rather hoping he won't bleed out before you get to him.' George gave a small smile. 'After all, I am very curious as to why was he following me. And on whose orders.'

"You're not the only one, my boy," Hogan said, picking the notes up and reading back over them. "Although you said here he claimed he was following you on behalf ofr a suspicious father. Could he have been telling the truth, perhaps?"

'Perhaps you confuse me with Captain Sanders, sir.' Answered George a little angrily 'I am not particularly interested in chasing skirts, sir.' George shrugged and shifted on his feet. 'If you think, sir, that this does not warrant your attention, then please give me permission to deal with it myself.' He paused and looked at a spot just above Hogan's shoulder. 'Though I cannot promise I'll be quite as gentle with the other little spies should I catch them.'

Hogan sighed.

"I'm not belittling this at all, Hunter. I'll have someone set to look into it and circulate a discription. Leave it to me."

He gave the young captain a sideways glance.

"Though you may not have noticed but you and Sanders are somewhat similar in appearance. It could be that her father was mistaken as to which one of you it was."

'I doubt that enraged fathers have patience to spy on ones they think guilty. I would have expected to have life beaten out of me if it was a case of avenging a girl's honour, sir.' George grimaced as he felt the layer of dried blood pulling at his skin, when he talked. 'Shall I report to Sir Arthur that one of his man got injured, or will you, sir?' George was aware of the double meaning of the statement but nothing in his face shown this awareness.

"I'll do it, Hunter," Hogan said calmly, folding up his notes. "Have you seen a surgeon yet?"

'No, sir. It's just a nosebleed.' George tugged the cloak around himself. 'May I be dismissed now, sir? I'd like to wash my face.'

"Yes do, do. And get a good night's rest. I'll send someone with you as an escort home."

'Thank you, sir. Good night, sir.' George left the room and went in search of water.