'What's the lad's name?'

'Tom Hillier — he's my sister's boy.'

'You never told me that you had a sister.'

'It's something I try to forget.'

Daniel studied the approaching youth. Tom Hillier was tall, skinny and fair-haired with pleasant features yet to shake off all the signs of boyhood. His slender torso was emphasised by the fact that his uniform was too tight for him. From the look in his eyes, it was clear that he held his uncle in high regard.

Welbeck, however, stared at him with a mixture of distaste and resignation.

'What do you want?' he asked, gruffly.

'I just wanted to speak to you, Uncle Henry,' replied Hillier.

'This is an army engaged in a war, not a tavern where you can pass the day in idle chat.'

'I know that, Uncle.'

'Of course, you do,' said Daniel, looking him up and down. 'So you're Tom Hillier, are you?'

'Yes, Captain Rawson.'

Daniel was taken aback. 'You know who I am?'

'Everybody in the 24 ^th knows who you are, sir,' said the drummer with a sense of awe in his voice. 'On my first day here, I was told about some of your escapades.'

'And when was that, Tom?'

'Two weeks ago.'

'You've only been with us two weeks?

'Yes,' said Welbeck, sourly, 'and it's a fortnight too long. Tom ought to be at home, looking after his mother, instead of coming here to be butchered by the French.'

Hillier stiffened defensively. 'I'm not afraid of a fight, Uncle.'

'You can't kill anyone with a pair of drumsticks.'

'Strictly speaking, he can,' Daniel put in. 'Drums are vital instruments of war. Because they can be heard above the noise of battle, they're ideal for issuing commands. You know that as well as anyone, Henry. There was a time, many years ago, when you were merely a drummer boy.'