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bottles being taken in to him by one of the maids.
    ‘I was right! It is war!’ yelled Brotherton. The clerks, used to their officer’s moods, barely paused for a moment in their work.
    ‘War?’ Hanley asked automatically. The singing had become louder, but still the others appeared not to hear it.
    ‘Yes, you know, lots of bangs and crashes and shouting. It is what soldiers are for. Occasionally it makes the newspapers.’
    ‘Haven’t we been at war with France for some time?’
    ‘It has become traditional, it is true. Never felt right to me back in ’03 when we had the peace. Seemed especially ironic as I had only just joined the army. Still, old Boney soon got over that fright and started the ball rolling once again. Decent of him, really. At least as decent as a monster can be.’
    Hanley confessed that he had never thought of Napoleon’s proclaiming himself as emperor in quite these terms.
    ‘Well now you know. “Truth will out”, as the headmaster of my school used to say before he flogged us. Now it is our task to flog the Corsican Ogre and his lackeys until they see sense and start behaving like Englishmen. Well, as far as is possible for so many garlic-eating Frogs.’
    ‘I rather like garlic,’ said Hanley, enjoying Brotherton’s nonsense.
    ‘The mood will pass.’
    ‘So, are we to go and fight the French in Spain?’
    ‘Bloodthirsty sort of fellow, aren’t you? Make a note of that, Fuller.’
    ‘Yes, sir, certainly, sir,’ answered Private Fuller without lookingup or interrupting his work. ‘It is noted for ever, sir.’
    ‘Splendidsense.
    ‘I thought we might help the Spanish against the French.’
    ‘Can’t think why. The Dons have rarely been any friends of ours. Used to be very chummy with Napoleon, though. Invited him to visit, and now look at the mess they’re in.’
    ‘The French have taken over the country, deposed the king and killed anyone who opposed them.’
    ‘Yes, they do that sort of thing,’ commented Brotherton mildly. ‘Damned silly to have them as guests in the first place. Should at least have asked them to leave their cannon in the hatstand and wipe their feet before messing the carpet up. Wasn’t too friendly of the Dons to let Boney’s legions stroll through Spain on their way to Portugal. Spain shouldn’t have lifted her skirts up in the first place,’ concluded Brotherton. ‘Who but a fool would trust Boney to be a gentleman?’
    ‘The Spanish are fighting. It is their country, after all.’
    ‘Not any longer, by the sound of things.’
    Hanley tried to get back to the point. ‘But are we going to Spain?’
    ‘You should be going about your own duties, and leaving a poor adjutant to toil into the midnight hours, unthanked and aided only by his stalwart companions, Corporal Lane and the admirable Private Fuller.’
    ‘And the war?’
    ‘Is far more serious than the mere infants’ struggle against Napoleon to see who will be first at the jam pot. Captain MacAndrews once again denies knowledge of a dozen haversacks which battalion records maintain were issued to the Grenadier Company in ’05. This is serious, costs His Majesty’s government many shillings and perhaps conceals a conspiracy of widerimport. For all we know one of the grenadiers is selling this vital military equipment to the French to be used in anger against us. That is the real war. Any one of us may be a spy purloining haversacks for the Emperor. Oh well, truth will out in the end.’
    Hanley grinned. ‘Who gets flogged this time?’
    ‘If there was justice in this world it would be the people who waste my precious time. Now get about your business.’
    Hanley left.
    ‘And if you ever see a haversack guard it with your life!’ called Brotherton after him. Hanley shook his head. Brotherton seemed amiable enough, but he was rapidly coming to the conclusion that his fellow officers were all buffoons.
    The Grenadier Company had already passed the Red Lion as Hanley came out. He