Winans looked down at the wanted poster and then at Hawkwood. “You’re not denying you are the men described here, Hooper and … Lawrence?”

“I don’t think there’d be much point. Do you?” Hawkwood said evenly.

Winans’ eyebrows lifted. Despite Quade’s presence, he’d clearly been expecting a denial. He consulted the poster again. “And these charges?”

“Greatly exaggerated.”

“Two men dead?” Quade spat out the words. “Four wounded? You call that exaggerated?”

“No, Major. I’d call it casualties of war.”

Quade went rigid, as if he couldn’t believe what Hawkwood had just said. The pistol rose.

Hawkwood tensed, knowing that if he did try to fling himself aside, Quade would undoubtedly shoot, and at that range he’d have to be the worst shot in the world not to hit his target.

But once again Quade held fire. Instead, he fixed Hawkwood with a cold and calculating glare.

“I doubt the tribunal will see it that way.”

“Tribunal?” Lawrence’s chin came up. “What tribunal?”

Thinking Lawrence was about to lunge from his chair, Quade took a strategic step backwards. A humourless smile touched his lips. “My country, Major; my rules.” He turned to Hawkwood. “As for you, sir, as I’m sure you’re aware, the penalty for spying is death by hanging.”

“What?” Lawrence gasped. “You’re mad! He’s no spy!”

We already had this conversation with Stagg, Hawkwood thought.

“Then where’s his uniform?” Quade responded archly.

“It’s at the bottom of the damned lake, of course! The same place as mine!”

Quade shook his head. “I’m afraid that defence won’t wash, Major. While your bona fides as an officer and a prisoner of war are a matter of record it’s clear to me this man is of a different hue. I believe him to be an agent, in the pay of the British Government through its representatives in Montreal, sent here to observe the disposition of American troops and to report their strengths and movements to his superiors. Tell me, Hooper, were those two men in the alley in your pay? Was that how you engineered our meeting, so that you could gain my confidence and milk me for information?’

“And I broke one of their arms to make it look real? Sorry, Major, nothing so devious. I was simply a concerned citizen who happened to be passing by.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“That’s up to you. It was obviously a mistake. I should have left you there. It would have saved us all a deal of bother.”

Quade dismissed Hawkwood’s retort with another icy glare and turned to Lawrence. “As for his connection to you, Major; that raises a number of issues. His infiltration of the Greenbush camp, for example, suggests prior knowledge of its layout, no doubt supplied to him by Federalist sympathizers. And we know fine well what their agenda is,” Quade finished smugly.