‘Booted, I doubt the snake could have made such an impression on his ankle, so we may presume he was indeed bitten in his room. Unbooted, perhaps, if he were in his cups, he mightn’t have felt the bite, and changed into night attire and gone to bed. Or perhaps he lay with his ankle exposed. It’s deuced odd, be what may.’

‘A cobra came into the stillroom at Arcot House.’

‘But there was no glass or flask or bottle to be found in his room. So either his nightclothes were soaked in brandy outside his room, or else the container was removed.’

A khitmagar, one of the begum’s, brought them tea.

‘You’re saying there’s something irregular in his death?’

Milne looked quizzical. ‘Gibb has entered the cause of death in the register as probable snakebite, and burial has taken place. Beyond that, his profession doesn’t require more of him, but as an officer he’s unquiet and has reported his suspicions to the provost marshal.’

‘Then there we’ll have to leave matters. What a thoroughly wretched business. I’ll write to his people at once, even if no more than to say he is dead and the cause is uncertain.’

Milne nodded. ‘I should think that best, yes.’

‘Very well, you’ll join us for dinner? Sir Eyre is host.’

‘Very gladly, Colonel,’ he said, rising. ‘If you’ll excuse me, meanwhile, I should like to visit the prisoners before I take my bath.’

Hervey opened the door for him, and when he’d taken leave he called in St Alban.

‘Milne has told me the deucedest thing …’

St Alban listened warily; then when it was finished he shook his head. ‘I should have warned him to be on his guard. Sammy told me he’d heard all manner of threats, though he couldn’t – wouldn’t, perhaps – say who uttered them. I merely dismissed it as the stuff of the wet canteen.’

‘It’s conjecture only, Edward. At this stage the evidence is but circumstantial.’

‘Indeed, Colonel, but if true it bodes very ill.’

‘I don’t need reminding of that. I don’t think I ever heard of an officer being dealt retributively in so calculating a manner.’

‘I should hope not.’

Hervey sighed. ‘I’d better write at once. Who are his people, do you know? Sussex, I think.’

St Alban shook his head. ‘I’ll have the chief clerk look. Oh, and the major has arrived, and with letters for you,’ he added, handing him a small bundle.

They dined in some state that evening, and a tent as sumptuous as any nabob’s. The governor’s baggage train had come up from Guntoor and his quarters made under canvas in the fastness of the great fort. It was here at Sthambadree that Hervey had planned to assemble the field force, and Somervile was determined to see it. He fancied (as soldier manqué par excellence) that he was never happier than when pointing a pistol or wielding a sabre in the company of those whose profession it was, and he was certain that it would be his last chance of military adventure. (He’d leave the reconnaissance to Hervey, but he’d not concede if and when it came to a campaign.) What would then follow after his governorship came to an end was as yet uncertain. The best he could hope for was a not too disagreeable colony somewhere, though how he’d receive such a preferment with a government of Whigs he couldn’t imagine. The trouble was, he was a little too senior for a plum in Leadenhall Street, and a little too junior for one of the more sought-after posts. He’d lately been sounded for Van Dieman’s Land, not long detached from New South Wales, but, as he’d said to Emma, his wife, if he had to be a prison governor he’d rather it were Dartmoor.