It was a fetid little enclosure and with his spare hand he pushed open the window through which instantly there came a murmur of unfamiliar sound. An unfamiliar sound in a crescendo and – there – what was that? A shot. And another shot. Buttoning himself up, he stood on tiptoe and gazed out of the window. There was a yellow leaping flame beginning to spring from one of the bungalows, about half a mile away, he judged. A fire? Yes, there was a fire and now there was a smell of smoke. A fire in the lines? Probably nothing. No one else seemed aware of it as he hurried back to the dining-room.

‘There’s a fire!’ he said. And then again, “There’s a fire in the lines!‘

In line abreast, the five Greys officers cantered on down towards the disturbance. They clattered into the compound and surveyed with dismay the ruin of Prentice’s house. And here they were challenged by a figure in a scarlet mess jacket, his white shirt front blackened. The Braganza Lamb in silver thread on his lapel identified the Queen’s duty officer. Four British soldiers, presumably the Queen’s fire picket, were hauling on the handle of the fire engine and two more were directing a jet of water into the ruin. Others, faces bound in cloth, made useless attempts to approach. Riflemen stood by.

‘What the hell’s been going on here?’ said Major Harry.

‘Disaster! Total disaster!’ came the reply. ‘We did our best but we were too late. Bloody fire engine! About as much good as a water pistol! We organised a bucket chain but we were too few and too late.’

‘Too late to save the bungalow?’

‘To hell with the bungalow! Too late to save Dolly and Midge Prentice.’

‘But they’re in Calcutta with Giles! He always takes them with him!’

‘Not this time, he didn’t! It’s Midge’s birthday tomorrow – Dolly stayed at home with her for her party. Good God! My girls were going!’ He wiped a blackened and bleeding hand across his face. ‘My girls were to be there,’ he said again. ‘No, there’s no sign of Midge or her mother… must be still in there… what’s left of the poor devils… The minute this lot cools down enough to get men in we’ll look for the bodies. Jesus! And Prentice away! I say – a disaster!’