The officer saluted, turned and marched from the room as swiftly as he could, shutting the door behind him. Henry cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

‘The man is not a natural diplomat, it would appear.’

‘He is young.’ Arthur shrugged. ‘And that melancholy affliction will soon pass. If Devere lives long enough I think he will do good service for his country. But for now, alas, he has left me with yet one more problem to resolve.’ Arthur pulled out his watch and glanced at the hands. ‘Nearly eleven. The hour is late, my dear Henry. Forgive me, but I have some work to do before turning in. I am sure you are tired after your voyage from Cadiz. We can continue our conversation in the morning.’

Henry smiled. ‘As you wish.’ He drained his glass and rose from his chair. ‘I’ll bid you good night then.’

Arthur nodded, and sat staring into the fire as Henry left the room. He waited a few minutes before making for the door and ordering the duty orderly to bring Somerset to him. Somerset entered, stifling a yawn, a few minutes later.

‘You sent for me, sir.’

‘Yes. I want two squadrons of dragoons in their saddles, immediately. And I’ll want some gold from the war chest.’

‘Gold?’ Somerset blinked.‘You intend to buy something at this hour, sir?’

Arthur stifled a yawn and smiled wearily. ‘Merely some goodwill.’

The estate was two hours’ ride from Lisbon. The route was hard to follow in the dark, made worse by the rain clouds that obscured the stars and moon. Three times they lost their way, and were obliged to find a farmhouse and wake the occupants to get directions to put them back on the right path, but finally, at two in the morning, the column passed through the gates of the estate belonging to Don Roberto Lopez. A long drive weaved through groves of fruit trees, bare-limbed in the winter, and stretches of pasture where the dark humps of cattle and goats clustered for shelter beside ancient walls. At length Arthur spied a single lantern burning in a portico. Around it loomed the barely visible mass of a large house.

The column halted by the portico and Arthur dismounted. He beckoned to his translator and strode stiffly towards the door and rapped the heavy iron ring against the stout timber. There was no reply and he waited a moment before rapping again, more insistently. The hiss of the rain and the low moan of the wind made it impossible to hear any sound from within. After a brief delay, the bolts on the inside of the door suddenly rattled back and the door opened wide enough for a man to peer suspiciously through the gap.

‘Good evening.’ Arthur smiled. ‘Please inform Don Roberto Lopez that he has a visitor.’

The translator spoke and there was a brief exchange before he turned to Arthur.

‘He says his master is asleep, sir.’