“Stop showing off! I’ve no idea how long I was trapped up there with three—three!—cold-blooded killers. As I was trying to tell you, they erupted into silent but deadly action. It was over in seconds. And I can tell you, it’s nothing like the choreographed fencing bouts you see on the silver screen: a twenty-minute reel of nimble footwork, snarling insults and swinging about on drapery! Oh no. Nobody wastes time shouting, ‘Have at you, sirrah!’ Hardy didn’t so much make an entrance as an incursion! He ignored the captain’s jeering and rushed with no warning straight across the room at Fanshawe. Fanshawe! Why him? At that moment, I had no idea what his crimes had been. I just thought he was a sadistic turd, and I was about to resign from his dining club. Couldn’t see why it had such glamour and status attached to it. I was going to tell the new master—Dr. Wells—at the end of term. Seemed the most tactful timing. I wasn’t certain how much longer the college could depend on enjoying his mastership.

“But here he was—Fanshawe—being manhandled in front of the open window by a man with a very bad reputation. He wasn’t expecting the attack. He tried to fend him off with his hand and scrabbled about with his feet, but it was useless. He shrieked once as he disappeared over the sill, and we all heard the thump as his body hit the paving stones below. Hardy strolled to the drinks tray and picked up the bottle of sherry. He poured the rest of the wine out of the window, looked at us and intoned in mock priestly speech, ‘Let us remember the fallen,’ and then threw the empty bottle after it on top of the body. Then he turned to deal with me. I knew I was next.”

The young man’s voice began to fail as he recalled the horror and the fear. “What sort of man does that? Kills his fellow and mocks him with a libation poured down on him as he’s taking his last breath?”

“A soldier. I’ve seen worse,” Redfyre said quietly. “Tell me about the other soldier present. Did Captain Dunne react?”

“Of course. Like lightning. But he’d taken up—I’d guess—a strategic position by the door. I was nearer, standing by the drinks tray. I rushed at Hardy. It all came back to me.”

“What came back to you?”