'Someone's home, d'Alembord said. He nodded towards the Union flag that stirred weakly from a flagpole in front of an elegant, brick-built building which, Sharpe remembered, housed the officers' Mess and the regiment's offices. Beside the flagpole, its shafts empty, stood an open carriage.

Harper pulled his shako over his forehead. 'What in hell's name are cavalry doing here?

'Christ knows. Sharpe's voice was grim. 'Dally?

'Sir? d'Alembord was brushing the dust from his boots.

'Take the Sergeant Major. Go round this place and roust the bastards out.

'If there's anyone to roust out, d'Alembord said gloomily.

'Harry! With me.

Sharpe and Price walked towards the headquarters building. Sharpe's face, Price saw, boded ill for whoever had left the guardroom empty and the depot unguarded.

Sharpe climbed the steps of the elegant house and, as at the main gate, there was no sentry at the door. He led Price into a long, cool hallway that was hung with pictures of red-coated men in battle array. From somewhere in the house came the tinkle of music and the sound of laughter.

Sharpe opened a white-painted door to find an empty office. A fly buzzed at the unwashed window above the dead bodies of other flies. The papers on the desk were thick with dust. A small, black-cased clock on the mantel had stopped with both its hands hanging down to the six.

Sharpe pushed open a second door on the far side of the hall. He stared into an elegantly appointed dining room, empty as the office, with a great, varnished table on which stood silver statuettes. A half empty decanter of wine held a slowly drowning wasp. Sharpe closed the door.

The hallway was carpeted, its furniture heavy and expensive, and its paintings new. Above a curving staircase was a huge chandelier, its gilded brackets thick with wax. Sharpe put his shako on a table and frowned as the laughter swelled. He heard a girl's voice distinct above the trilling of the spinet. Lieutenant Price grinned at the sound. 'Sounds like a brothel, sir.