Meeting at Headquarters

Padstowe stared at the sergeant, his distaste clear as he waitedfor the man to state his business.

"Well?" he asked curtly.

Hakeswill twitched, his eyes staring past Padstowe's left ear.

"I has come, sir, if I may, to offer you my thanks, sir. My sincere and humble thanks."

Padstowe's frown deepened. He certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"Your thanks? What on earth for?"

Hakeswill grinned, seeing the captain was puzzled by his statement. One up to the sergeant.

"For making me see the error of my ways, sir. For showing me how mistaken I was and for saving me from having the burden of that poor young lad's life on me soul. I couldn't have borne it, sir! no, sir, not now's you have proved that he is innocent!"

Puzzle over that one, you crafty posh bastard...

Padstowe frown deepened, though out of irritation, more than puzzlement.

"The last time I saw you, sergeant, you were determined to see Private Williams dangling from the end of a rope."

Hakeswill grinned, his face giving an involuntary twitch.

"Ah, but that was before, sir! Then I still thought he was a murdering bastard, if you'll pardon me, sir. Only a common soldier, so's I only has common language, sir; not like you, sir, you being a prop'r gen'lman! No, Mister Sharpe and I has had our disagreements in the past, but I wouldn't let no one strike an officer, no sir! Terrible sin, sir, to strike an officer - says so in the scriptures, so it does. But now I knows I was wrong, and I apologise for my rashness. After all, poor lad can't help being Welsh, can he?"

"That'll do, sergeant," Padstowe cut in, his voice containing an edge of cold steel. He wanted this creature gone. "Apology noted, and I shall pass it on to Lieutenant Sharpe and Williams."

"Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

Hakeswill shuddered to attention, then reached inside his jacket pocket to bring out a crumpled and somewhat dirty cover. This was what he had really come for.

"And I also come to return this, sir."

Padstowe's eyes widened. Somewhat dirty and crumpled it might be, but he recognised Sarah's letter in the sergeant's hand.

"Where did you get that?" he snapped. He managed to not quite snatch the letter from Hakeswill's hand. He checked inside the cover. The letter was still there.

"Found it, sir." Hakeswill's expression was guiless, but inside he was grinning like a devil. So this one did have his weaknesses; not so calm as he pretended to be, which meant that Hakeswill might yet find a way to break him. "In the alley, sir, after you took Mister Sharpe home, sir. Must have dropped it, sir." I meant to return it this morning, but you left before I could find you, sir."

It was a filthy lie, and Padstowe knew it. He had been carrying the letter that night, but he had taken it out of his coat and put in one his table after he'd taken Sharpe home, which meant he couldn't have dropped it... which meant that Hakeswill had been to his rooms. But how? It must have directly after the trial; when they had gone to the posada... His frown deepened.

"Dismissed, sergeant," he snapped.

"Sir!"

Hakeswill about-turned and marched off out of the front door, down the steps and into the bright sunshine again. He stopped, grinned, let out a cackle as his face shudderd and twitched and made his way back towards his billet.

Padstowe directed his angry glare to where the sergeant had left. Damn it! What thehell had the man wanted with the letter? And why had he not stolen anything of greater value? and why giove it back in such a fashion, following such a ludicrous statement? It mystified and worried him, but the suspicion that he may have stolen a personal letter was not enough to arrest the man. The whole incident seemed to have been some sort of threat - a threat of what he did not know, but Hakeswill was certainly up to no good.

Deeply disturbed, he went to the dining room to find Sharpe. He resolved not to say anything now, but to have a private discussion with Major Hogan once he got back.

Pumphrey was finishing up his buttered rolls and tea. Such a treat to have a little free time for a little indulgence in the beauty of the scenery.

But he did have work to do here and he was prepared to cajole the Lieutenant into taking him to Sir Arthur.

The captain turned down the corridor and then stepped through the door into the dining room and stopped abruptly. Sharpe was sitting at the table, a half-eaten buttered roll in his hand, but, inconcruously, next to him was a slim young man dressed fancifully and with the air of a dandy. He had not seen the man before, but he had heard enough to know who the man must be, which mean great misfortune had just arrived at Sir Arthur's door.

It was also a misfortune that Padstowe could not withdraw from the room. He bowed his head stiffly, his expression showing nothing but the coolest formality.

"My lord." He turned to Sharpe. "If you have finished we should be going, Sharpe."

Sharpe turned to see Padstowe standing by the door. "Of course." He turned back to Pumphrey. "Please excuse me. Important business to see to."

Pumphrey turned when he heard a voice addressing him, since there was no other "lord" in the room. He looked at the man that spoke. Noted his uniform. A Captain... that knew who he was. At Arthur Wellesley's headquarters.

"Ah!" he spoke, "Captain Padstowe I presume? I'd heard from Lieutenant Sharpe here that you had arrived. How fortuitous."

Richard Sharpe wrote:Sharpe turned to see Padstowe standing by the door. "Of course." He turned back to Pumphrey. "Please excuse me. Important business to see to."

Pumphrey smiled at the Lieutenant's words.

"So the Captain has recruited you for his little mission?"

He wagged a finger.

"How naughty of him to preempt you from me." He chided.

Inside Padstowe's guts twisted into a panicked knot, but he merely frowned, genuine confusion on his face.

"Mission, my lord?"

The man must be trying to guess, maybe find out more. Pumphrey could not know, it was impossible; he had only found out about Maturin's proposed expedition and he only been enlisted because he had offered his services himself. Therefore Pumphrey could not know, and he would not give the man the satisfaction of a lucky guess.

Pumphrey waved his handkerchief.

"Now, now Captain, no need to be shy."

He smirked.

"Or coy."

Ye gods, but the man live up to his reputation. Padstowe stuck to his guns and shook his head.

"You'll forgive me, my lord, but I have not been -" Here his eyes flickered across to Sharpe briefly as if he was wary of talking of such things in his presence. "- informed of any new employment."

And to be proposing to discuss such things in so public a place... the man's danger was as much from his laxity as well as his ruthlessness it seemed.

Tsk. So much for that, thought Pumphrey. Why must everything be done the hard way? He did much prefer cooperation rather than having to exercise the weight of Whitehall's long arm. It mattered not in the long run. He would accomplish his mission. He would find out soon enough what Padstowe was and what he knew.

He smiled at Padstowe.

"Then far be it for me to spoil surprises."

Pumphrey stood and moving the chair back, made a slight bow to both men. "It has been a pleasure, Richard."

He began to stroll out of the room, nodding to Padstowe as he drew level. "Captain." He nodded in passing.