‘There would be formalities to be gone through, of course, but no, I don’t think she’s in trouble with the law. My concern is not for Nancy but for Midge.’

‘Midge?’

‘Prentice’s daughter, Minette.’

‘Of course, Midge. Poor child. But look here, I say, Sandilands, Prentice’s house is on fire. The evidence will be destroyed, won’t it? Does she have to know what happened? Does she have to know her father was many times a murderer? Wouldn’t it be possible to keep this knowledge from her?’

Joe hesitated a long time before replying. ‘William, you’re the only person in the world who could say that. I can’t bring your wife’s murderer to justice and keep the facts from Midge.’

‘Justice!’ said Somersham explosively. ‘If Prentice were alive, I’d find the means to bring him to judgement. Silly Billy Somersham would have found the strength! But as it is, Joe, for God’s sake – spare that child and for the rest, let pass the judgement of God.’

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The echo of the volley discharged by a Shropshire Light Infantry firing party over the grave of Giles Prentice died away and with it the rumble of wheels from the gun carriage which had carried him from his house to the cantonment cemetery. The clatter of hooves from the six grey troop-horses of Bateman’s Horse was silent at last and the serried ranks of Greys sowars – black mourning bands wound about their turbans – had tearfully dispersed to their barracks to grieve in private for the man who had brought them safely back from France. There were, at the last, some to weep for him, thought Joe. He watched as Prentice’s horse with muffled hooves and Prentice’s boots reversed and suspended on either side of the saddle was led away to the stable.

George Jardine’s Daimler with liveried chauffeur and footman waited outside Nancy ’s bungalow. ‘I suppose I must go and talk to Uncle George,’ said Joe, ‘but not yet.’

But at that moment, ‘Joe!’ called George Jardine. ‘There you are! I have to go but just walk a few paces with me, will you?’

He put his arm through Joe’s and they turned aside from the crowd of mourners at the churchyard gate. ‘Don’t say anything, Joe,’ he said. ‘Don’t tell me anything. There are certain things I don’t want to know. “Death by misadventure” – that’s all I needed to hear.’

‘I was going to spend the day writing a report to you,’ said Joe.

‘I don’t want it,’ said George. ‘Let the dead bury their dead. And I’ll tell you – you’ve lifted a weight from this place. I feel it. All feel it. What more can I say? Congratulations, I suppose. So – congratulations!’

‘It was a mess,’ said Joe morosely.

‘Nothing like the mess it would have been if you hadn’t been here – never forget that!’

He started off back up the road to Nancy’s house but turned and said, ‘Oh, by the way, Joe – that box-wallah you and Naurung tracked down – the witness Bulstrode let go in the Peggy Somersham case – police finally caught up with him in Bombay. Wonderful invention, the telegraph! You were quite right, of course – March was the month he always visited Panikhat on his itinerary. Well spotted! Religious maniac apparently. And you spotted that too! I should think that by next week we’ll be announcing that we’ve got a confession. Wouldn’t be surprised to find he’s been responsible for more mayhem around the country. If anyone were to enquire. Eh? What? Wrap the case up and no need for panic next March. Should think there’s a promotion coming Naurung’s way, wouldn’t you?’

So cheerful, sincere and delighted was his large pink face that, for a moment, Joe believed him.

‘Well?’ said Kitty, taking the Governor’s place at Joe’s side.

‘ “The captains and the kings depart,

The tumult and the shouting dies…”

‘and I suppose you’ll be gone too. Gone from the Land of Regrets. Without regret, I wonder? Leaving some part of your heart behind?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Joe, ‘certainly that.’

Kitty gave him a steely and searching look. ‘Leaving anything else behind? It’s all right – you don’t have to answer. Everybody thinks I’m the most irresponsible tell-tale in Bengal but such is not the case. Your secret – if secret there be – is safe with me!’

‘Well, Nancy?’ said Joe.

‘Well, Joe?’ said Nancy. ‘Here we are.’

‘I didn’t want to stay and now, when it comes to it, I don’t want to go.’

‘Go you must, Joe. You see it, I’m sure. But, as for me, I’ve lived on a tightrope for days. It’s been difficult sometimes, bloody difficult, but it would become impossible. It could only work if you didn’t give a damn about me and I flatter myself…’

‘You don’t have to flatter yourself,’ said Joe. ‘I care more than I can say.’

‘Go and say a fond goodbye to Andrew, will you? And – fond is right – he thinks the world of you! I like that.’

‘He’s very fine,’ said Joe. ‘He led us all that night.’

‘You’re right. He is fine. I noticed it from the first all those years ago at St Omer.’

And then, after a pause, ‘Did I deceive you, Joe? Were you deceived?’

‘For a moment, perhaps.’

‘And did you mind?’

Joe hesitated, wondering whether to speak the truth. In the end, ‘No,’ he said. ‘I was touched and perhaps even flattered and now – what on earth can I say? Something silly like – I hope it all works out.’

‘Do you want to know what happens?’

‘I’ve thought about that. The answer really is no. I’d be distressed for you if I knew it hadn’t worked and distressed for me if I knew that it had. I’m not made of marble, you know!’

Making sure that he was not followed and hoping that he wasn’t seen, he slipped away, returning to the graveside. He held a spray of small red roses in his hand.

‘The last Kashmiri rose,’ he said as he laid it across the grave mound.

‘I saw you go and thought I’d follow you,’ came a familiar voice from behind him, and Midge came and stood at his side. Her pallor and slight figure were emphasised by the funeral dress she wore, a black silk outfit of Nancy ’s, hurriedly adapted to her size, and a long string of borrowed pearls. She looked so insubstantial that Joe automatically put out an arm to steady her.

‘Funny,’ she said. ‘We had the same idea. I wanted to do something. I’ve brought him some flowers too. He always liked these little red ones so I’ll put mine with yours. What were you saying? “The last Kashmiri rose?” Is that what they are? Well, there they are, side by side.’

Joe was overcome with pity and a tear stung his eye. He held out his arms and gathered Midge to him. She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sad,’ she said. ‘Very sad. It’s funny – I can’t cry.’

‘Brave girl,’ said Joe. ‘Colonel’s daughter.’

Midge began to cry at last. ‘I don’t feel like a Colonel’s daughter,’ she said, through her tears. ‘Now my mother’s dead, my father’s dead and there’s only me left.’

‘Dickie?’ Joe ventured.

‘Oh yes, there’s Dickie,’ she said, drying her tears on Joe’s shoulder. ‘Dickie of course. He’s only gone to Peshawar and now – it seems an awful thing to say, I suppose – but as soon as Nancy can arrange it we can get married.’ She looked thoughtfully down at the grave.

‘I expect he would have approved in the end,’ said Joe comfortably.

‘I wish I could think so,’ said Midge, surprisingly. ‘Joe?’ She hesitated for a moment. ‘What everybody’s saying – that it was all a hideous accident… overturning his bedside lamp and all that… it’s just not true. Is it? You must tell me the truth, Joe.’

With a calm he didn’t feel Joe said, ‘What do you mean, Midge? It was an accident.’

Midge shook her head. ‘I’m not such a fool, Joe, and I know why you and Nancy and – yes, Dickie too, he’s in it with you – have been trying to keep the truth from me. But I’ve worked it out. I woke up at Nancy ’s feeling very ill and they tried to tell me it was something I’d eaten. It wasn’t. It was something I’d drunk. Something Daddy gave me in a glass before bedtime. It made me sleep. Now why would he want me to sleep through the night and not wake up? I’ll tell you…’