Saornil and his men went halfway down the hill to a place where thin trees made a screen that hid them from the road. From here they opened fire. The French were taken entirely by surprize. Some were killed; many others wounded. There were no rocks and very few bushes – scarcely any where to hide – but the road was still before them, offering a good chance of outrunning their attackers. After a few minutes of panic and confusion the French gathered up their wits and their wounded and sped away.

As the guerrilleros climbed back up the hill, they were very doubtful that any thing had been accomplished; after all, the figure in the scarlet uniform had still been among the Frenchmen as they rode off. They reached the place where they had left the magician and were amazed to find he was no longer alone. Major Grant was with him. The two men were sitting sociably on a rock, eating cold chicken and drinking claret.

“… Brighton is all very well,” Major Grant was saying, “but I prefer Weymouth.”

“You amaze me,” replied Strange. “I detest Weymouth. I spent one of the most miserable weeks of my life there. I was horribly in love with a girl called Marianne and she snubbed me for a fellow with an estate in Jamaica and a glass eye.”

“That is not Weymouth’s fault,” said Major Grant. “Ah! Capitán Saornil!” He waved a chicken leg at the chieftain by way of greeting. “Buenos Días!”

Meanwhile the officers and soldiers of the French escort continued on their way to France and when they reached Bayonne they delivered their prisoner into the keeping of the Head of Bayonne’s Secret Police. The Head of the Secret Police came forward to greet what he confidently believed to be Major Grant. He was somewhat disconcerted when, on reaching out to shake the Major’s hand, the entire arm came away in his hand. So surprized was he that he dropped it on the ground where it shattered into a thousand pieces. He turned to make his apologies to Major Grant and was even more appalled to discover large black cracks appearing all over the Major’s face. Next, part of the Major’s head fell off – by which means he was discovered to be completely hollow inside – and a moment later he fell to bits like the Humpty-Dumpty person in Mother Goose’s Melody.

On July 22nd Wellington fought the French outside the ancient university city of Salamanca. It was the most decisive victory for any British Army in recent years.