“Nonsense!” Manningham whispered back. “No one cares about that here! And anyway here is the Duke!”

There was a little bustle and the Duke appeared. “Ah, Merlin!” he cried as his eye lighted upon Strange. “I am very glad to see you! Shake hands with me! You are acquainted with the Duke of Richmond, of course. No? Then allow me to make the introduction!”

If the assembly had been lively before, how much more spirited it became now his Grace was here! All eyes turned in his direction to discover whom he was talking to and (more interesting still) whom he was flirting with. One would not have supposed to look at him that he had come to Brussels for any other reason than to enjoy himself. But every time Strange tried to move away, the Duke fixed him with a look, as if to say, “No, you must stay. I have need of you!” Eventually, still smiling, he inclined his head and murmured in Strange’s ear, “There, I believe that will do. Come! There is a conservatory at the other end of the room. We will be out of the crowd there.”

They took their seats amid the palms and other exotic plants.

“A word of warning,” said the Duke. “This is not Spain. In Spain the French were the detested enemy of every man, woman and child in the country. But here matters stand quite differently. Buonaparte has friends in every street and in a great many parts of the Army. The city is full of spies. And so it is our job – yours and mine – to look as if nothing in the world were more certain than his defeat! Smile, Merlin! Take some tea. It will steady your nerves.”

Strange tried a careless smile, but it immediately turned itself into an anxious frown and so, to draw his Grace’s attention away from the deficiencies of his face, he inquired how his Grace liked the Army.

“Oh! It is a bad army at best. The most miscellaneous Army I ever commanded. British, Belgians, Dutch and Germans all mixed up together. It is like trying to build a wall out of half a dozen materials. Each material may be excellent in its way, but one cannot help wondering if the thing will hold together. But the Prussian Army has promised to fight with us. And Blücher is an excellent old fellow. Loves a fight.” (This was the Prussian General.) “Unfortunately, he is also mad. He believes he is pregnant.”

“Ah!”

“With a baby elephant.”

“Ah!”

“But we must put you to work straightaway! Have you your books? Your silver dish? A place to work? I have a strong presentiment that Buonaparte will appear first in the west, from the direction of Lille. It is certainly the way I would chuse and I have letters from our friends in that city assuring me that he is hourly expected there. That is your task. Watch the western border for signs of his approach and tell me the instant you catch a glimpse of French troops.”