“Did you see them shooting the villagers?”

“I did hear shots, sir.”

“Did you see the hanged men?”

“I did, sir.”

“What did the village look like to you?”

“A place in hell, sir.”

“In hell?”

“Yes, sir.”

The colonel conferred in whispers with Captain Henderson. Henderson turned over a sheet of paper from among the small pile in front of the colonel and indicated a place about halfway down the page. The colonel nodded. Don Ignacio kept his gaze on Calley and for a moment Calley allowed himself to lock eyes with him.

The colonel cleared his throat. “Very well. Let us come to the officer. You told Captain Henderson you saw an officer at the village. May we assume this was the same man the witnesses have just described to us?”

“It sounded right, sir.”

“The witnesses spoke of him wearing a fur hat.”

“Yes, sir. A busby.”

“So you identified him as a hussar.”

“From the busby, sir.”

“Though you have already stated that men wore whatever they could find that might defend them from the cold. This applied to officers too?”

“All, sir.”

“So this busby might have been acquired at some point on the retreat?”

“It’s possible, sir.”

“Captain Henderson asked you if you had heard the officer addressed by name. You said you had.”

“Yes, sir. By rank and name.”

“From the hill?”

“I was not so far away, sir. And the man was shouting for him.”

“Very well. We have examined the army list, the relevant parts. We have a name that would seem to match the one you gave to Captain Henderson. Can you read, Corporal?”

“The Lord’s Prayer, sir. The regiment’s name. My own.”

“Then you will step outside this room with Captain Henderson. He will speak the name we have found and you will tell him if it is, to the best of your belief, the name you heard at Morales. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

The colonel turned to Don Ignacio. “You will not take it amiss, I hope, if the name of this officer remains for the moment a matter exclusively for the army? It is a very delicate thing. The man may be entirely innocent.”

Don Ignacio moved a shoulder, a strangely expressive gesture that seemed to suggest he found the idea of an innocent British officer almost incredible.

“Thank you,” said the colonel. Then, “Go ahead, Henderson.”

Calley and Henderson went outside. Henderson closed the doors and both men crossed the terrace to the top of the stairs, out of earshot. They stood in columns of heat, the light from the white walls dazzling them.

“Am I doing all right then, sir?”

“All right?”

“In there. With the colonel.”

“All we want from you is the name of the officer responsible for the massacre.”

“And that’s all you want.”

“That is all.”