‘You know damn well I did,’ Chuck sneered, ‘I was doing my job while you were partying on with your nigger friends at their fancy club.’

‘And that was the same night Private Anthony Hill met with his accidental death.’

‘Correct. But, like everyone else, I didn’t see or hear anything.’

‘Yes, so you’ve said, and so has Sergeant Stowers, but something has come up since then and I wondered if you knew anything about it.’

‘Oh yeah, and what would that be?’ Chuck’s tone was impatient more than anything. He had no fear, no anxiety. It was Tuesday, four days since the boy’s death, the body had been taken away for burial or shipment God only knew where, all the necessary questions had been asked and adequately answered; he was quite safe.

‘The men who shared Private Hill’s tent found this the day after his death.’ Sweeping the papers on his desk to one side, Samuel picked up the two halves of the book. As he held them out for Chuck Maxwell’s inspection, he studied the man closely. ‘This book was of great value to Private Hill,’ he went on, ‘but as you can see it’s been destroyed. The men who shared his tent wondered whether perhaps there might have been a fight of some kind.’

Chuck didn’t miss a beat. ‘Not to the best of my knowledge,’ he said, ‘but I can tell you who ripped that thing in half.’ He looked Samuel directly in the eyes. ‘I did.’

‘Why? Why would you want to do a thing like that?’

‘Lazy nigger didn’t jump to attention when I entered his tent, just sat there looking at his goddamned book. Niggers like that got to be taught a lesson, Robinson, so I tore up that there book. Then I got on with doing the rest of my rounds.’

‘Yes,’ Samuel said with weary loathing, ‘of course you tore up the book. It’s just the sort of thing you would do, Maxwell.’ He dumped the book back on his desk, feeling utterly helpless. The confrontation had gone nowhere.

‘Got to teach these boys respect, you know, got to teach them their place,’ Chuck said smugly. ‘Now is there anything else I can help you with, Captain?’ Chuck was congratulating himself on his quick thinking. He felt more than smug, he felt positively triumphant. Why would he deny destroying the book? If in the unlikely event it proved to be an object of importance and they chose to run tests, his fingerprints would be all over it.

Samuel couldn’t bring himself to look at the man. ‘No,’ he said, ‘nothing else you can help me with. Not yet anyway,’ he added in an attempt to sound ominous, but the words were empty and he knew it.

So did Chuck, who smiled as he crossed to the clerk’s desk to collect his paperwork.