She did, and the lime-seller smiled. He replied that, being old and crippled and possessing nothing but a few lime trees, he had nothing to fear.

‘Then if he is right and we apprehend these bandits,’ said St Alban, ‘he shall have some reward – but don’t tell him that. Ask where are the nearest kotwals.’

She asked, and the lime-seller shook his head. He thought there were no policemen nearer than Sthambadree.

St Alban frowned – Sthambadree, a ten-mile point. And likely as not there’d be no mounted police there either. Except there’d be Armstrong’s men, and Worsley’s nujeebs waiting for tomorrow’s sweep towards Kothapore. An hour to get there; then an hour back, and then beyond to the river, however far that would be.

No, they’d never be able to intercept them, not before the ferry, and once the other side …

Better therefore to gallop for the river and order the ferryman to stay the other side until …

But that wouldn’t work, for they’d have to gallop past the thugs, who’d soon tumble to what was happening (they weren’t fools; that’s why they remained at large), and then they’d scatter, or lie low in some hideaway. No, he’d have to think of something else …

‘Serjeant Acton, gallop for Sthambadree and tell Colonel Hervey what’s t’do. Ask for every spare man to hasten here at once – here to this village and wait concealed till I return with the thugs.’

‘But sir, with respect, how are you to bring them back when they’re so many and there’ll be just you and Johnson?’

‘And the ladies, Serjeant; I’ll have need of Miss Hervey to speak for me – if, that is, they’re agreeable.’

Georgiana’s eyes brightened. Annie’s, less bright, were nevertheless resolute (the price, perhaps, of ‘puddings and pies’).

Acton looked horrified. ‘Sir, with respect—’

‘I know: yours is to cover the commanding officer and anyone he appoints you to, but these are the exigencies of the service. And the ladies have their pistols, and facility with them – thanks to you.’

Acton now looked only slightly less horrified, but he was reconciled to the facts of life. ‘Sir!’

‘Go to it, then.’

Hervey’s covering serjeant looked once more at Georgiana, as if for assurance, then saluted and reined about. ‘Here, Johnno,’ he said, sternly, handing him his own two pistols; ‘you’ll know what to do.’

Then he dug in his spurs.

Hervey broke the seal and began to read. A letter from Lord John Howard at the Horse Guards was always welcome, but now perhaps especially, for there must surely be something of especial intelligence, there being so many comings and goings in the London Gazette. As a rule, everything was at least six months out of date, though – even despatches by the steam route were four months gone as a minimum – but as events anyway took their time to have material effect, a considered commentary instead of a mere report was much to be preferred.