Strange glanced up the venerable staircase to the great carved doors behind which his lordship sat. (Curious how everyone who entered knew instinctively where he was to be found. Such is the fascination that great men exert!) Strange shewed no inclination to go. Colonel Murray supposed that he must be feeling lonely.

A tall man with vivid black eyebrows and long black mustaches to match approached the table. He wore the dark blue jacket and gold braid of the Light Dragoons. “Where have you put the French prisoners?” he demanded of Colonel Murray.

“In the belfry,” said Colonel Murray.

“That will do,” said the man. “I only ask because last night Colonel Pursey put three Frenchmen in a little shed, thinking they could do no harm there. But it seems some lads of the 52nd had previously put some chickens in the shed and during the night the Frenchmen ate the chickens. Colonel Pursey said that this morning several of his lads were eyeing the Frenchmen in a very particular manner as if they were wondering how much of the flavour of the chickens had got into the Frenchmen and whether it might not be worth cooking one of them to find out.”

“Oh!” said Colonel Murray. “There is no danger of any thing like that happening tonight. The only other creatures in the belfry are the rats and I should think that if any one is going to eat any one else, the rats will eat the Frenchmen.”

Colonel Murray, General Stewart and the man with black mustaches began to laugh, when suddenly they were interrupted by the magician saying, “The road between Espinhal and Lousão is abominably bad.” (This was the road along which a substantial part of the British Army had come that day.)

Colonel Murray agreed that the road was very bad indeed.

Strange continued, “I cannot tell how many times today my horse stumbled into pot-holes and slipped in the mud. I was certain she would fall lame. Yet it was no worse than any of the other roads that I have seen since I arrived here, and tomorrow I understand some of us must go where there are no roads whatsoever.”

“Yes,” said Colonel Murray, wishing very heartily that the magician would go away.

“Through flooded rivers and stony plains, and through woods and thickets, I suppose,” said Strange. “That will be very bad for all of us. I dare say we shall make very poor progress. I dare say we shall not get on at all.”

“It is one of the disadvantages of waging war in such a backward, out-of-the-way place as Portugal,” said Colonel Murray.

General Stewart said nothing but the angry look he gave the magician expressed quite clearly his opinion that perhaps Mr Strange would make better progress if he and his horse took themselves back to London.