“Bugger the chocolate!” Redfyre stirred impatiently. “A unit of six men? Even if you call them a tactical sub-unit, they’re never going to be able to do work more suited to a platoon! And, for railway maintenance and doubtless telegraph repair work, you’d need a squad of engineers.” A sympathetic shake of the head told the witness that the inspector, in spite of his youth, had his eye on the ball and was not to be distracted by a mention of Mr. Fry’s best. “Six men being sent into uncertain terrain? With the vaguest of instructions? What half-wit gave that command? And what poor sod was put in charge of this suicide squad?”

“I was. Battlefield promotion, you could call it. Or a desperate decision taken in haste by an inexperienced and badly briefed officer?”

“What rank was conferred?”

“I was made captain. My old sergeant was made lieutenant. And we both regretted it as soon as our oh-so-helpful information officer told us we were being given the opportunity to take a day’s course with the men on close combat techniques with the regimental experts before we set off into the unknown. ‘Just a refresher, don’t you know! Always worth having!’” His eyes narrowed. “Clown! But he wasn’t wrong.” His smile was angelic as he added, “I’ve always found ‘three easy ways to incapacitate your enemy in twenty seconds’ to be an invaluable skill. It’s served me well, in and out of uniform.”

“Only three?”

“It’s enough for me.”

The slow drawing of the chain through the manacle, Redfyre interpreted as a subtle threat. It said clearly, If only . . . He was glad he’d insisted on having the man wear a restraint, even though he suspected he would never live it down in the constabulary canteen.

The old soldier appeared unsurprised to be handed a sheet of paper. “Ah! You’ll be wanting a list of the weasels and wastrels I commanded, then? I thought that was where this was leading. Here goes. Do you want me to list them in order of rank or villainy?”

“Probably amounts to the same thing, but let’s try rank, shall we? Starting with yourself. Chief Weasel.”

The man scribbled in silence for a few minutes, then passed the sheet bearing six names back to the inspector.

Captain Richard Dunne (officer i/c patrol)

Lieutenant Abel Hardy (2 i/c)

Corporal Ralph Merriman

Corporal Ernest Jessup

Private Herbert Sexton

Private Sydney Fox

“You’ll find they appear in order of experience, also. Worth noting that, of the two privates, Private Sexton was several years older than Private Fox. Herbert was a difficult man to promote.”

Intrigued, the inspector followed up the odd remark. “Owing to criminal tendencies? Lack of moral fibre?”