routinely dispatched. Many who entered the grim portals never came out alive again. Emanuel Janssen could not be in a worse place.
'Well,' she pressed, 'which prison is it?'
She had to be told. 'The Bastille,' he said. 'Oh!'
Amalia almost swooned and he had to support her with both hands for a moment. Thanking him for his help, she eased him away and made an effort to compose herself. They continued their walk.
'I can see why you didn't tell me earlier,' she said.
'You've had enough distress in the last twenty-four hours, Miss Janssen. I had no wish to add to it.'
'That was considerate of you.' She turned to him in despair. 'I've heard the most terrible stories about the Bastille. We drove past it in a coach once and the very sight of it frightened me. I'm horrified to think that Father is locked up in there.'
'It shows that he's still alive,' said Daniel, trying to strike an optimistic note. 'That's a sign of clemency.'
'Should I make an appeal for mercy to the King?'
'Oh, no, Miss Janssen. It would certainly be rejected and you would give your whereabouts away. After what happened to the man who watched your house, the police will be looking for you and the others. That's why I brought you to a part of the city where they'd be unlikely to search. I want them to think that you've left Paris.'
'I could never do that while Father is still here.'
'You may not have to,' he said.
'Is there any chance at all that he can be rescued?'
'I think so, Miss Janssen.'
'How will you go about it?'
'I'm not sure yet but, thanks to Ronan, an idea is forming in my brain. It may require me to leave you alone at the house for a while.'
'Where will you be, Captain Rawson?'
'Perhaps you ought to stop calling me that,' he suggested. 'It's not wise to keep reminding me that I'm a British soldier. If that name slips out in front of Charlotte, she'll become too curious. It might be safer if you called me 'Daniel' from now on.'
'In that case, I will — Daniel. And in view of what you've already done for us in the short time you've been here, I think you're entitled to call me by my Christian name.'
'Thank you, Amalia. I regard that as a privilege.'
Their eyes locked for a moment. Daniel's smile was broad and Amalia's more cautious but both acknowledged that they had just crossed a little boundary. Their friendship had deepened and they were drawn insensibly closer. It was a very pleasant feeling and Daniel luxuriated in it until he remembered the repair to his coat.
'There's something else I must thank you for, Amalia.'
'Is there?'
'During the night, you brushed and mended my coat.'
'But I didn't. Had you asked, I'd have been happy to do so. I may not aspire to the heights of making a tapestry but my father taught me a long time ago how to use a needle.'
Daniel was puzzled. 'If it wasn't you,' he said, 'who was it?'
'Well, it was certainly not Beatrix,' she replied. 'She lay snoring beside me all night. That leaves only one person.'
'It has to be someone capable of moving silently in the dark.'
'Kees can do that. He's the one you have to thank, Daniel.'
Seeing his uncle walking towards him, Tom Hillier quailed. It was one thing to be ignored by Henry Welbeck but he sensed that it would be even worse to be berated by him. The sergeant was known for his ability to harangue recruits. Judging by his dour expression, he was about to turn his venom on his nephew. Hillier swallowed hard.
'Good morning, Sergeant,' he said, meekly.
'I need a word with you, lad.'
'Have I done anything wrong?'
'Yes,' said Welbeck, darkly. 'When you joined the army, you made the mistake of signing your life away to a lost cause. However, that's behind you. What you have to do now is to make the best of a bad situation.'
'That's what I've tried to do, sir.'
'So I hear. You've been fighting with one of the other lads.'
Hillier flushed. 'Who told you that?'
'I have my spies.'
'It was only in fun, Sergeant. Hugh Dobbs and I are friends really. He's helped me a lot with my drumming and he seems to know everything that happens in this regiment. Hugh's been telling me about Captain Rawson.'
'Don't believe all of it.'
'He described how the captain took part in a Forlorn Hope.'
'We're all involved in a Forlorn Hope,' moaned Welbeck. 'Army life is one long, pointless charge up a hillside with the enemy firing at will. It's not bravery, it's sheer bloody lunacy.'
'Then why have you stayed in uniform so long?'
'That's my business.'
'Mother says that you…' His voice trailed off as he saw the menace in Welbeck's eye. 'I'm sorry, Sergeant. I won't mention the family again.'
'This is your bleeding family now,' said Welbeck with a gesture that took in the whole camp. 'You're in a madhouse under canvas.'
'I think that's being unfair.'
'I've been here long enough to find out.'
His nephew avoided argument. 'Then I'll accept your word, sir.'
Welbeck stood back to weigh him up. His nephew's uniform was too tight but he looked smart and alert. Much of the early wonder had been sponged off his face by cold reality. Hillier was no longer in thrall to the idea of bearing arms. It was now a commitment he'd made rather than a patriotic duty that set his heart alight. There was something about him that Welbeck had never noticed before. He had a definite resemblance to his mother. The sergeant was looking at his sister's nose, chin and pale complexion. Hillier even had some of his mother's mannerisms. Welbeck had never been close to his sister but he felt an impulse of affection towards her now.
'What was the name of that friend of yours?' he asked.
'Hugh — Hugh Dobbs.'
'Was he the one who hid your drum in a tree?'
'You've been talking to Captain Rawson, haven't you?'
'That's neither here nor there, lad. All I want to know is this. If Hugh Dobbs knows everything that happens in the 24 ^th Foot, has he ever mentioned the name of Major Cracknell to you?'
Hillier pondered. 'No, I don't think so,' he said at length.
'Be on guard against him,' warned Welbeck.
'Why is that?'
'It doesn't matter — just do as I tell you.'
'I've never even heard of Major Cracknell.'
'You will.'
'What business could he have with me, Sergeant?'
'You're my nephew.'
'I thought you didn't have a nephew any more, sir.'
Welbeck gave him a hard stare that slowly evanesced into a grudging smile. He stepped forward to pat Hillier on the shoulder.
'I like what I've heard about you, Tom,' he said, briskly, 'but not everyone in this regiment will want to be your friend. I've told you a name to remember. It's Major Simon Cracknell. Watch out for him and don't tell anyone I
