The Return of Captain John Emmett

'As for Inspector—late Assistant Provost Marshal—Mulins, he was a cold, hard man who believed the worst of everybody. From my committee work I know that more men, whether guilty or simply unfortunate, were ensured of capture, arrest or execution under Mulins' aegis than any other. Although I took enormous risks in shooting him in broad daylight, so close to Scotland Yard, it was worth it. I was never worried for myself but simply that I would be prevented from finishing off my work.'

Laurence could hear his own breath. It sounded uneven and he hoped it wasn't audible to Somers. The last time he remembered feeling like this was in France.

He shifted slightly to ease the pressure on his spine. Somers' revelations were exactly what he had feared, yet could never possibly have expected from a man of his standing.

'You wanted to remove everyone involved in your son's death?'

'Of course not.' Somers looked surprised. 'I accept military necessity. I only ever wanted the guilty to be punished. There were six officers of the court martial.

Despite sentencing my son to death, they recommended mercy on account of his age. For this, I spared the four who had survived the war: Ryecraft, Vane-Percy, Goose and O'Shea.'

Somers recited their names effortlessly, ticking them off on his fingers. How many times had he gone through the case papers, Laurence wondered? He doubted whether even Brabourne would have known the name of every member of the board.

'Harry's CO—a chap caled Gooden, whose evidence damned Harry—died in an accident on the grouse moor on the opening day of the season in 1919.'

Somers smiled, without showing his teeth.

'Shot by a keeper. Presumably in error. My only targets were Emmett, Tucker, Byers, Mulins, Liley and General Hubert Gough. Al, bar Gough, are now dead. The Honourable Ralph Liley—the subaltern who had been so eager to condemn Harry, simply from spite and dislike—lived conveniently close to my home. We knew the family slightly, though of course he had no idea of my link to Harry. I folowed him for a while, observing his habits. Watched my quarry settle back into the comfortable life he'd led before the war. Liley took a regular train from our local station. It was the most natural thing in the world to join him, talk to him on the platform and then push him under the incoming train. These things are never quite straightforward: he fel too far out and the train merely cut off his legs rather than kiling him outright. But I jumped down on to the tracks and was able to tel him why he was dying, before help came and he bled to death. I was the unknown hero of the hour.'

Laurence found it hard to process what he was hearing. How long had he been here, listening to a man who should have been the sanest of individuals, and whose demeanour and tone were indeed utterly reasonable, talking of madness?

'I can see your skils deserted you there,' said Somers. 'Perhaps you didn't get as far as Liley. You didn't use your imagination.'

'Do you know, I've had enough of people teling me what I should have done,' said Laurence, fatigue and discomfort crushing the instinct to placate the man in front of him. 'I now know why John Emmett died, even if I don't know exactly how. I set out to unravel that and that alone. John's path crossed, disastrously, with your son's and with you, but al I ever wanted was an answer for his sister. I have that answer. And for her it may now be much simpler to come to terms with her brother's death. Knowing his life was taken by you, not thrown away by him,' he said, recaling both Byers' and Eleanor's comments about the relative pain of the suicide or the murder of a loved one.

Somers' face contorted slightly. He looked puzzled. 'You think someone kiling someone you love is easier to bear than knowing they took their own life?' For the first time, he fel silent.

'Yes. However you might have chosen to punish the men you condemned, for John Emmett's sister, at least, I think the truth wil be terrible but less hard than it was.' And then, stil angry, he added, 'I did know about Liley and you got the wrong man in Byers. He wasn't the man on the execution detail.'

'There you are wrong. Emmett identified Byers on the photograph. Described him. Told me precisely how he'd fussed about his wet feet—had degraded my son in his last minutes. I tracked him down to the very farm he'd enlisted from.'

Although Somers spoke firmly, a faint doubt showed in his face.

'That was his cousin,' said Laurence. 'There's a family resemblance, I'm told, but he was a cousin. You kiled Jim Byers. Jim Byers just did his bit in France for three years. Leonard Byers is alive and wel.'

He was angry because Somers was wrong. In this war every man's life had been on the line. Batmen and bandsmen had fixed their bayonets alongside their comrades. There was no escape.

Somers looked disconcerted only for a second and then, unexpectedly, he laughed, a laugh that filed the room with something like normality.

'Of course he's wel,' he said, with just a trace of bitterness. 'Mr Leonard Byers, successful civilian. Of course he is. I told you he was a man with an eye for the main chance. Warm feet now, no doubt. Stil, I'm sorry about the cousin if it's true. Dismal, run-down place the farm was, too. Not much sign of Mr Lloyd George's land fit for heroes down there. Scarcely fit for cows. But I am sorry. Not that any of it matters now.'

'And you were seen,' Laurence said, realising that for al his reasonable manner, part of Somers was irreparably and unpredictably damaged. 'Byers' old uncle, semi-bedridden, was at a window when you arrived with your gun. He was a weak witness, shocked and bemused, but he was stil a witness.' His words came out more strongly than he'd intended.

'I was seen, as you put it, before I pushed Liley under the train. I was seen by plenty of people when I shot Mulins. There's seeing and not seeing. Age, expectation and authority: they're al surprisingly effective disguises, Mr Bartram, especialy to certain witnesses.'

Laurence looked at the window. It was now completely dark outside. Where was Gwen Lovel?

'I wasn't merciless, you know. I checked them al. The other men connected with my son's death are more or less blameless or dead. One—Private Watkins—

endures a living death in the North Wales County Lunatic Asylum.

'Since the death of Mulins, things have become harder but my hand was forced before I was ready when I