Suddenly, it appeared to the inspector that he was the one under scrutiny, his skill being put to the test. Well, so be it. The accused opposite him was a prisoner playing for his freedom, possibly his life. The poor bugger could have no way of knowing how much of his military career had been the subject of an enquiry in depth, but also at speed, by the Cambridge CID. Redfyre had cards left in his hand, and would hold them in reserve for as long as he needed. His adversary was a man he could respect and, yes, even like, as many others had. But Redfyre was not about to be affected by the dramatic story his investigations had produced.

False accusations of theft and looting had been levelled against the captain and his men towards the end of the war, resulting not in the hanging of one guilty party, since the captain had accepted responsibility on their behalf. There was no way even the rigid and pitiless military court could stomach the execution of a much-decorated war hero. And the outcry against such a punishment would have echoed loudly in the English press back home in London. It was considered wiser to sentence all six men to four years’ hard labour in the army jail. Even if they survived the four years, their names would be forgotten. But the captain had made friends in the regiment and impressed senior officers by his bravery and general soldierly behaviour. What’s more, inconveniently for the prosecution, he was the man who had brought back the “Kimberley Deposit,” as the gold shipment had been called. It would have been the work of a moment for the captain to sign the official form, which was hurriedly put together and presented to him, a document exonerating him from all charges, and he could have been set free. But he had followed his principles and remained loyal to his men, fighting in their corner to the last and going down with them.

Even though, as perhaps only Redfyre understood, he had disliked and mistrusted each and every one of them. Cynically, Redfyre wondered if the captain’s motivation had been to take a swing at the higher ranks he so despised in the only way open to him. A waste of a good man’s time and reputation if so, Refyre reckoned. Those men were impervious to shame.

The case had become a cause célèbre in the army, dividing the old-fashioned flog-’em-and-hang-’em top brass from the younger, lower-ranking officers who had learned much and fast about modern warfare in the burning crucible of South Africa. Captain Dunne was a hero to many. To the few who held the reins of power, he was a challenging, self-righteous thorn in the flesh, best silenced and held incommunicado in some remote place.