The two soldiers exchanged fleeting glances. Wainwright said: ‘Well, I didn’t order that!’ ‘No. But if it hadn’t been for Ross, your precious Admiral Cockburn would have destroyed the whole of Washington!” said Harry.

Wainwright grunted, and the conversation lapsed.

When the daylight faded, the pace had to be slackened, but the moon presently rose, and once more the post-boys were bidden to spring ’em. Captain Wainwright, remarking that he would rather be beating off a leeshore in a gale with the tide against him than travelling in Harry’s company, wedged himself into his corner, shut his eyes, and remained dead to human intercourse until the chaise drew up in Downing Street. He took leave of the two younger men there, and made off to the Admiralty. The chaise was paid off, Falls insisting that he was quite well enough to walk to a coffee-house; Harry lodged his dispatches; West picked up the portmanteaux; and they all three set off to find a suitable lodging for the night. As it was by this time past midnight, the quest was not easy. Every inn near Downing Street was full; and Harry, fearing that Tom’s state of health was not good enough to permit of his walking about town any longer, was considering the advisability of calling up a hackney, when they came upon the Salopian Coffee-house, in Parliament Street. It looked to be a clean, comfortable place, but the waiter who met them said that he was very sorry, there was only one spare bedroom: nothing more!

‘Oh, plenty!’ said Harry. ‘All we want is an hour or two’s sleep!’ The waiter looked doubtful, but he handed them over to a chambermaid. ‘Only one room, sir!’ said this damsel.

‘Plenty!’ declared Harry.

‘But, gentlemen, only one bed!’

‘Plenty!’ said Tom, with the croak of a laugh.

So up they went, West following with the portmanteaux and, finding the one bed well furnished with blankets, proceeded, under the scandalized eyes of the chambermaid, to haul half the clothes on to the floor.

‘But what are you doing, sir!’ she demanded, trying to rescue a chintz-quilt from this fate. ‘Making a second bed,’ replied Harry. ‘Be off with you, there’s a good girl!’ ‘But you can’t sleep on the floor, sir!’

‘Can’t I, by Jupiter! I’ve done so for seven years!’ said Harry, setting his hands on her shoulders, and running her out of the room.

5

Harry was up long before Tom Falls in the morning, and ate a hasty breakfast in the coffee-room under the eye of a depressed-looking waiter, who was engaged in dusting the chairs, and setting the furniture straight for the day. As soon as he had swallowed his eggs and bacon and coffee, Harry ran up to take his leave of poor Tom, still snug in bed, called for a hackney, bundled himself and West into it, and drove off to the barracks where he knew he would find some Rifle comrades quartered.

The porter there seemed surprised to see an officer abroad so early. He was not a quick-witted man, and when Harry accosted him with a demand to know the names of any officers in the building, he stood gaping until Harry said impatiently: ‘Come on, man, come on! You must know who’s inside!’

‘Yes, sir, for sure I do. There’s-let me see now-there’s Mr Dixon, and-and Captain Logan.’ ‘No, no good. Think again!’

‘Yes, sir. Well-well-Mr Fry, and Captain Macnamara, and Colonel Ross, and young Mr Milligan.’

‘

Hold a minute! Colonel Ross? What regiment?’ ‘He had a green jacket when he came up,’ said the porter. ‘John Ross!’ exclaimed Harry. ‘Where’s the room?’ ‘Oh, but, sir! don’t disturb the gentleman: he’s only just gone to bed!’

‘My friend,’ said Harry, ‘I’ve often turned him out, and he shall be broad-awake in a couple of minutes! Come now, show me his room, and be quick about it!’

‘Well, sir, if you say so!’ said the porter.

He conducted Harry to Colonel Ross’s room, but when he would have tapped discreetly, Harry elbowed him aside, flung open the door, and bounced into the room, calling out: ‘Hallo, Ross! Stand to your arms!’

The Colonel, who had come in after a very late night, and was peacefully sleeping, leaped up at this all too familiar shout, realized where he was, and demanded: ‘Who the devil are you?”

‘Harry Smith: fall in!’ said Harry, drawing back the blinds with a ruthless hand. ‘Harry!’ exclaimed Ross. ‘Well, upon my soul! You old ruffian, where do you spring from?’ ‘The Chesapeake, with dispatches. How are you? Is the regiment home? By God, it is good to see you again!’

Ross, wringing him by the hand, began to pelt him with questions. He was quite as excited as Harry, and there was a great deal of laughing, and back-slapping, until Harry said: Well, John, but quiet! Is my wife alive and well?’

‘All right, thank God, Harry! In every respect as you would wish! I was with her yesterday.’ ‘Where, John, where?’

‘In Panton Square, No. 11.’

‘Oh, thank God!’ Harry exclaimed, and burst into tears. ‘Now, Harry! now, Harry!’ Ross said. ‘I tell you she’s safe and well!’

‘If you knew what I’ve suffered! The anxiety-not knowing where she was-her youth-her dependance on me! But that’s enough! I’ll see you presently, John: I can’t wait now!’ He left as abruptly as he had come, jumped into the waiting hackney, and shouted to the coachman to drive like mad to Panton Square. The hackney rattled over the cobbles in fine style, and had no sooner turned into the little square than Harry leaned forward eagerly, his hand on the door. He expected to find Juana breakfasting, if not still in bed, but just as he was scanning the numbers over the doors on one side of the square, a shriek reached his ears.

‘Oh Dios! la mono de mi Enrique!’

‘Stop!’ shouted Harry to the coachman. Almost before the hackney had pulled up, he had thrust open the door, and jumped out, just as Juana, who was walking along the opposite side of the square, came running across the broad road.

She was sobbing with mingled joy and shock; he flung open his arms, and she fell into them, right in the middle of the square, under the interested gaze of the coachman, two errand-boys, and a chambermaid who happened to be leaning out of an upper window. ‘My soul, my darling!’ Harry said, holding his wife so close that the breath was almost squeezed out of her.

West, who had descended more sedately from the hackney and was observing the grins of the errand-boys with great disfavour, coughed apologetically. His employers paid no heed to him. Oblivious of their surroundings, they clung together in such an ecstasy of joy that not even the arrival on the scene of a coalheaver’s cart penetrated, their consciousness. ‘Hey, soldier! Sweetheart and honey-bird keeps no house!’ shouted the coal-heaver, grinning broadly. ‘Mi Enrique, mi esposo!’ Juana sobbed, arms locked round Harry’s neck. ‘Alma mia de mi corazon!’

‘Ah!’ said the coal-heaver, shaking a waggish head. ‘Free of her lips, free of her hips!’ ‘Here!’ said West menacingly. ‘You be off out of this, or I’ll make you!’ ‘Gip with an ill-rubbing, quoth Badger, when his mare kicked!’ retorted the coal-heaver. It seemed for a moment as though the quiet square would be further enlivened by a brawl, but happily Harry lifted his head just then, and became aware of his audience. ‘Oh, the devil!’ he said, bursting out laughing, ‘Hija, where do you live? Take me in!’ ‘Ho, a furriner!’ remarked the coal-heaver, who had by this time descended from his cart. ‘As English as yourself!’ said Harry. ‘Hallo, Vitty! I declare she remembers me as well as you do, Juanita!’

Vitty, who had been leaping up at him quite unheeded, began to bark shrilly; several heads were poked out of windows, and Juana, blushing and laughing, seized Harry by the hand, and fairly ran with him through the open doorway of No. 11.

‘Well there’s a light-skirt for you!’ remarked the coal-heaver.

‘If you want to have your cork drawn, say the word!’ said West. ‘She’s my master’s lawful wedded wife!’

‘You don’t say!’ gasped the coal-heaver. ‘No offence, I’m sure!’ Meanwhile, in the narrow hallway of No. 11, Juana, encountering Madame Dupont, stammered out the joyful tidings, allowed Harry just time enough to shake the good lady’s hand, and then swept him upstairs to her sitting-room. She was so overcome by the shock of having him unexpectedly restored to her that for a time she could scarcely speak, or believe that she was not dreaming. A storm of tears shook her; she lay in his arms, gripping his coat with both hands, sobbing out disjointed exclamations. But presently she grew calmer, and was able to lift her head from his shoulder, and to release her clutch on his coat. ‘I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!’ she said, stroking his tanned cheek. ‘Oh, mi Enrique, you have grown thinner! How did you come? Is the war over at last?’

‘No, not over, but please God, it soon will be! Poor Tom Falls-Ross’s ADC, you know-was sent home on sick leave, so Ross gave the dispatch to me. Oh, querida, do you know you are more beautiful than ever? Have you been well? Has Tom taken good care of you? Have you seen my father?’

‘No, no, I would not go to your home until I could speak English!’ ‘Oh, you bad child, can’t you do so yet?’

‘Yes!’ she said. ‘I speak it very well: it is quite estra-ordinary how well I speak it!’ He kissed her, laughing at her. ‘Indeed, it is most estra-ordinary how oo-ell you speak it!” ‘Don’t queeze me, espadachin,’ she said, pinching the lobe of his ear. ‘Ah, Enrique, tirano odioso, I have been so unhappy!’

‘And I! You don’t know!’

‘I shall never let you go again, not a step out of my sight!’

‘Oh, by Jupiter!’ Harry said, recalled to a sense of his duties. ‘My poor darling, you’ll have to! I must be off to wait on Lord Bathurst!’

‘It is your duty? Then of course you must go. I do not forget that I am a good soldier! But, Enrique, tell me, is all well in America?’