Hervey smiled. ‘No doubt you tried.’

‘Round and round the jumping lane sans saddle and bridle till I got dizzy watching. You saw it, Colonel. Horse was blown afore young Kynaston broke sweat. Not once did ’e even look like ’e’d lose ’is balance.’

Hervey had indeed observed it. Evidently the military college taught something, though a seat like Kynaston’s was a gift of God. (He was already inclined to overlook the unfortunate connection with Fort William.)

‘Very well. Carry on, RM.’

* * *

‘Mr Channer, sir,’ announced the senior subaltern, looking testy (whether because of distaste for the task or for what he supposed was Channer’s offence – the dalliance with the survey wife and refusal to fight her husband – was impossible to tell).

St Alban looked severe. ‘Thank you, Mr Hastie. Have him come in, please. Then dismiss, if you will.’

Channer was not in arrest; there was no need of Hastie as escort. But St Alban intended leaving Channer in no doubt. It was rare that the senior lieutenant was required to attend at adjutant’s orderly room, and that alone would serve his purpose. Hastie himself was scarcely delighted by the duty, for he had six years’ seniority in the rank over St Alban, but the appointment of adjutant carried with it in effect the seniority of the commanding officer himself, and so there could ultimately be no resentment. But any temporary vexation would only serve St Alban’s purpose; whether Hastie blamed him or the unfortunate Channer was by the bye.

The door opened again, and Lieutenant Channer entered in undress, the day uniform when not on picket. He saluted, and prudently remained at attention until St Alban bid him stand at ease – which St Alban did not.

‘Mr Channer, a most disturbing letter has been sent to the commanding officer by an attorney in London acting on behalf of the parish of Chelsea claiming that you are in breach of a bastardy bond. That you have, indeed, been in breach of the said bond for three years, since its signing in fact. Can there be any substance in this allegation?’

‘With respect, Mr St Alban, I regard the matter as being entirely my affair, and think it impertinent in the extreme of this attorney to write to the colonel. He ought, if there be any complaint, to address it directly to me.’

‘He writes that he has, on no fewer than six occasions, and without reply, and that on learning of your departure here felt he had no alternative. Is there nothing to these allegations, then?’

‘I really must protest, St Alban: this is not a matter for gentlemen to concern themselves with.’

St Alban angered. He would have damned his eyes had he not thought it demeaned his appointment.

‘Mr Channer, let me be rightly understood. The matter is to my mind of the essence. The lady is of a respectable family, but it would scarcely matter less if she weren’t. There is a child to whose paternity you have admitted – sworn indeed – and for whose maintenance you therefore in all decency must make provision. Need I say more? The colonel does not know of this – yet. The letter was addressed to him impersonally and I therefore opened it. Were he to know its contents, I cannot vouch for the consequences. His temper is uncertain at this time. But I am of the opinion that he would refer the matter to a court martial on a charge of behaving in a scandalous, infamous manner, such as is unbecoming the character of an officer and a gentleman.’