'Do you know, Captain Sharpe, the damage it does our cause if our soldiers thieve or rape? His voice was scathingly quiet.

'Yes, sir.

'I hope you do, Captain Sharpe, I hope you do. He sat down again. 'Our enemies are encouraged to steal because that is the only way they can be fed. The result is that they are hated wherever they march. I spend money — my God, how much money — on providing rations and transport and buying food from the populace so that our soldiers have no need to steal. We do this so they will be welcomed by the local people and helped by them. Do you understand?

Sharpe wished the lecture would end. 'Yes, sir.

There was suddenly a strange noise overhead, a shuffling and rattling, and Wellington's eyes shot to the ceiling as if he could read what the noise might mean. It occurred to Sharpe that the telegraph was working, the inflated bladders running up and down the ropes, bringing a coded message from the troops facing the French. The General listened for a few seconds, then dropped his face to Sharpe again. 'Your gazette has not yet been ratified.

There were few things the General could have said more calculated to worry Sharpe. Officially he was still a Lieutenant, only a Lieutenant, and his Captaincy had been awarded by a gazette from Wellington a year ago. If the Horse Guards in Whitehall did not approve, and he knew they usually rejected such irregular promotions, then he was soon to be a Lieutenant again. He said nothing as Wellington watched him. If this were a warning shot, then he would take it in silence.

The General sighed, picked up a piece of paper, put it down again. 'The soldier has been punished?