Ramage looked at Kerguelen. The Frenchman's face was impassive. It was impossible to guess his thoughts.

"Perhaps you would be kind enough to tell the Captain why," Ramage said.

"I most certainly will not!" Chamberlain said angrily, sitting down in his chair with a thump. "I don't have to explain my decisions to enemy privateersmen - to pirates!"

Ramage turned to look down at Chamberlain and said, his voice little more than a whisper, "You weren't being asked to explain your decisions; you don't have the power to make any that matter a damn. You were being asked to explain the recent Act of Parliament. However, before I withdraw my parole I'll explain."

With that Ramage described to Kerguelen the Act, explaining that it was newly passed, and the first he knew of it was when the Agent told him. As Ramage spoke, Kerguelen occasionally nodded his head and, at the end of it, after Ramage described his application to the Admiralty for an exception to be made, he shrugged his shoulders expressively.

"So," Ramage concluded, "I withdraw my parole."

"Me, too," Yorke said. "We are your prisoners again."

Chamberlain gasped. "Lieutenant! You can't do that!"

Ramage just stared at him but Yorke said contemptuously, "You count your mailbags! Leave a matter of honour to people who understand it!"

"But there's a letter for you," Chamberlain wailed helplessly to Ramage. "From the First Lord of the Admiralty. And there's the letter from the Postmaster-General - from Lord Auckland himself."

Kerguelen was quicker than Ramage to grasp what the Agent had done and said: "Revoke your parole when we get back to the ship. I'll wait in the hall until you are ready." With that he left the room, carefully shutting the door behind him.

Ramage turned to Chamberlain and, still speaking quietly and rubbing the scars over his brow, said, "Give me Lord Spencer's letter."

Chamberlain was about to speak, but Yorke saw that Ramage's face had gone white and he knew what the unconscious rubbing of the scars meant. He also knew that Ramage was one of the few men whose voice became quieter as he grew more angry. Ramage at this moment was a spring under enormous tension: at a certain point it needed only a fraction more strain to release it. Chamberlain had been so objectionable that Yorke knew it was a miracle that Ramage had kept his temper up to now. But the Agent was far too stupid to be warned by the drawn face, the narrowed eyes and the hard line of the lips.

"Mr Chamberlain," Yorke said hurriedly, "you're in much deeper water than you realize. Stop playing silly games with Mr Ramage because there's nothing to discuss. You have two letters to deliver, and that's your only function. You are the Post Office Agent; merely a clerk in this affair. Mr Ramage and I gave our word of honour to Captain Kerguelen - you forget that long before we reached Lisbon we agreed to buy back the ship and our freedom for £2,500, and we gave our parole until the money came from England.

"Then you told us of the new Act and Mr Ramage wrote to the First Lord," Yorke continued, as though explaining to a child. "From what you say, apparently the Government will not honour our agreement, but that doesn't mean to say we don't honour our parole. So from the moment that you told us the Government had disavowed us," Yorke continued, speaking very distinctly, "we reverted to being prisoners of war, and the Lady Arabella remains a French prize."

"But you can't do that! You must stop him!" Chamberlain gabbled excitedly. "You can't go back on board and let that pirate escape with the Lady Arabella!"

"Can't we?" Ramage interrupted coldly. "Write to Lord Auckland and explain how you tried to prevent two British gentlemen from keeping their parole! Now, give me that letter from the Admiralty!"

Chastened, Chamberlain unlocked a drawer in his desk and handed Ramage a packet on the back of which was the familiar anchor seal of the Admiralty. Ramage took it and put it in his pocket.

"Aren't you going to read it?" the Agent asked incredulously.

"Yes, but not now."

"But supposing it contains orders?"

"You've told me the money is not here, and Mr Yorke and myself are not allowed to pay it privately. That's all that matters for the moment."

"But Lord Auckland..." Chamberlain broke off nervously, as though at a loss what to do next, and Ramage saw he was fingering another letter, the seal of which was broken.

"What about Lord Auckland?"

"Well, he says that although..."

Again he broke off. Instinctively both Yorke and Ramage moved closer to him: obviously the Agent was holding something back.

"Why don't you read your orders from Lord Spencer, Lieutenant?"

"We are dealing with Post Office business, Mr Chamberlain. You, as the Post Office Agent, have already told us - and I include Captain Kerguelen - officially that the Government will neither provide nor allow us to provide the money. The moment you told us that, we were Captain Kerguelen's prisoners again. He's freed of any undertaking he gave us."

Yorke was watching Chamberlain closely as Ramage spoke, and the Agent's manner had become nervous and jerky, almost like a trapped animal. When they had first come into the room, Chamberlain had been pompous, almost bombastic, though his attempted snubbing of Kerguelen had fizzled out like a damp fuse. Although he had obviously not understood the parole business, he had condescendingly accepted it as being something that eccentric men involved themselves in, to the detriment of the Post Office.

Yorke began to wonder exactly what were Lord Auckland's instructions to the Agent. He had more than a suspicion that something underhand was going on. A quick glance told Yorke that Ramage thought so too and would probably offer the wretched Agent a way out.

Ramage said quietly, "I think you had better give us some idea of what Lord Auckland says."

Chamberlain was struggling to recover some of his poise. "It's confidential," he said, looking significantly at Yorke. "I'm prepared to impart it to you, Lieutenant, as a King's officer, but..."

"Then keep it to yourself," Ramage said abruptly. "Mr Yorke was as much a party to the agreement as I was and has every right to know. Moreover he knows a great deal more about all this than you do. However, we are taking up your time. You can mention in your next report that since the money is not forthcoming we have withdrawn our parole. Now, if you'll excuse us..."

As Ramage abruptly turned away, Yorke saw the desperate look in Chamberlain's eyes: the paralysed stare of a frightened rabbit. The Agent's hands were clenched, perspiration suddenly beaded his forehead and the tip of his tongue wetted his lips.

Yorke put his hands on the desk and leaned slightly towards the Agent. "You are quite sure there's nothing more we should know, Mr Chamberlain?"

"I ... well, his Lordship has ... I have certain powers delegated to me ... in certain circumstances ... I -"

Ramage swung round and said savagely, "Give me Lord Auckland's letter!"

In a complete reflex action, Chamberlain handed it over.

Yorke knew that the moment Ramage read the letter and discovered whatever complex game it was that Chamberlain had been trying to play, he might lose control of himself and possibly strike the Agent.

"Mr Chamberlain," he said quietly, "if you had some other business to attend to for five minutes, so that Lieutenant Ramage and I could..."

"Oh, certainly, certainly!" the Agent said thankfully and fled the room.

Ramage read the letter standing and then slumped in a chair. He held it out to Yorke. "It's just as well you got that scoundrel out of the room. Did you guess?"

Yorke did not reply and began reading quickly. "... absolutely essential that Lieutenant Ramage's freedom be arranged ... Act forbids the Government to permit payment ... However, if you can arrange his release by any means..."