‘The orderly serjeant’s gone for them.’

‘Splendid. Then I look forward to seeing them. Tomorrow at riding school. What a treat’s in store for them.’

‘For Kynaston too, Colonel.’ (Every new cornet fancied himself a rider, until his first encounter with the RM.) ‘I’ll bring him and then go and tell Askew of his new lease of life.’

‘And then I’ll tell you what we’re about these next six months.’

Sammy came meanwhile with coffee, while Hervey read.

St Alban returned a few minutes later with the Sixth’s newest joined officer. ‘Cornet Kynaston, Colonel.’

Hervey rose and held out his hand. ‘You are very welcome, Mr Kynaston. Remove your shako and be seated.’

The punkah had begun to swing, but it produced only a disturbance of heated air rather than anything cooling.

‘Thank you, Colonel.’

‘Sammy, coffee for Mr Kynaston please.’

It was probably the last thing that Kynaston wanted, Sammy thought, replying to Hervey’s Tamul with an additional ‘Nimbu pani, Colonel-sahib?’

Hervey nodded, and saw that Kynaston evidently understood too – a promising start.

‘How was your passage out?’

‘A little faster than expected, Colonel, and without incident, though I regret to inform you that one of the draft in my charge died not long after leaving the Cape – of an aneurysm.’

Hervey nodded. Another letter to be written by someone, St Alban probably, and without the consoling words of one who knew him, or that he’d died bravely in action against the King’s enemies, or that he was held in high esteem by all ranks – and so on and so forth. But this was India, and even getting here was not without its perils.

‘I am sorry to hear of it. He was given a Christian burial, I trust.’

‘He was, Colonel. There was no chaplain, but the captain spoke the words.’

‘Then please give to the adjutant before the day is out what details you have so that he may write to his people.’

‘Of course, Colonel. I presumed to write, myself, already, and sent it by way of an Indiaman we passed off Mozambic.’

Hervey hid his surprise, saying simply ‘Good man’, and then, ‘The draft – a likely cohort, are they?’

‘I believe so, Colonel. There were no defaulters to speak of. The serjeant, from the Thirteenth, with a draft for his own regiment, had them under good regulation.’

‘Capital. Thank you for your letter, by the bye. Tell me, was it India or the regiment that claimed your interest?’

Kynaston smiled readily. ‘Both, Colonel. I had the great good fortune to be recommended to General Irvine, and I have a relative in Calcutta.’

Sammy came back with the lime water. Kynaston thanked him for his in confident Tamul.

Hervey was not minded so much to enquire about the recommendation to the colonel of the regiment – it was as it was – but he asked out of civility and mild curiosity what was his connection with Calcutta: a fellow officer, preferably; or a writer, perhaps (not entirely to be sneered at); but he hoped not a box wallah.