As far as Danny was concerned Waterloo was the place where he changed trains on his way back to Camberwell. Military history could wait until Sandhurst. Firm footsteps sounded from along the corridor and the sergeant from the assault course approached. 'Mr Watts?'

'Sergeant?'

'Good lad, got it right that time. With me, please, Colonel's office. Leave your bag there.'

The sergeant turned away and retraced his steps down the corridor and Danny felt the eyes of the other candidates on him.

'Looks like you're in,' said Four Pints, with a wink. 'Must have been your run that did it.'

Danny hurried after the sergeant, his thoughts racing. Was that it? Was he in? The colonel had said letters to the successful candidates would go out the following day.

They reached the colonel's office at the end of the corridor and an abrupt, 'Come,' was called in response to the sergeant's firm knock. He opened the door, nodded for Danny to go through and then pulled the door shut. His combat boots echoed away down the corridor.

The man seated on the far side of the dark wooden desk was not the colonel. He was blond-haired, mid forties, and in his slick, dark blue suit and custard-yellow and red striped tie, looked every inch a top civil servant. Danny recognized the tie – he'd once been on a school trip to a Test Match at Lord's and had seen dozens of them worn by the MCC members in the pavilion.

A half-full cup of coffee stood on the desk. The man was studying a buff-coloured army RCB file with Danny's photograph stapled to the front of the cover. He spoke without looking up. 'Sit.'

Danny obediently sat in the chair on the near side of the desk but felt his face flush. He wanted to say, 'Look, mate, I'm not a dog, and what happened to Mister Watts?' But he didn't.

A clock on the wall ticked loudly. Danny realized he was counting the passing seconds until, at last, the man looked up. 'The Regular Commissions Board will be turning down your application for a bursary, Watts.'