Drinkwater stared at the slovenly figure, noting the blue coat of naval undress uniform.

'Lieutenant Sparkman?'

Sparkman coughed with surprise, spluttering into his mulled wine in an infuriating indignity which he disguised in anger. 'And who the deuce wants to know?'

'You are Lieutenant Sparkman, Inspector of Sea Fencibles, are you not?' Drinkwater persisted coolly, drawing a paper from his breast pocket and shaking it so that the heavy seal fell, and unfolded it for Sparkman to read.

'I am Captain Nathaniel Drinkwater, from the Admiralty, Mr Sparkman. You wrote to their Lordships about a Colonel Bardolini.'

Sparkman's mouth fell open; he put his tankard down, wiped his hands upon his stained breeches and took Drinkwater's identification paper, looking at Drinkwater as he sat up straight.

'I beg pardon, sir ...' He read the pass and handed it back. 'I beg pardon, sir, I had no idea ... I wasn't expectin' ...'

'No matter, Mr Sparkman, no matter.' Captain Drinkwater took the paper, refolded it and tucked it inside his coat.

'Where is this fellow Bardolini? In the Redoubt, I think you said.'

'Yes, sir, I thought it best…'

Annie Davis came back into the room with a glass of black­strap on a tray. 'Here you'm be, sir.'

'Obliged.' Drinkwater swallowed hard. 'No doubt you did think it for the best, Mr Sparkman, but I doubt Colonel Bardolini will be of so sanguine an opinion. Does he speak English?'

'Yes, very well.'

'Good. Where is this Redoubt?'

'You passed it, sir, just before you came to the main gate…'

'Ah yes, the glacis, I recollect it. Shall we go then?' Drinkwater tossed off the glass and swept up his cloak and hat. 'A dinner in two hours, my girl, and no later; a hot meat pie will do very well.'