'Have you ever thought about deserting, Sharpe? General Baird asked him.

'Me, sir? Sharpe managed to look surprised. 'Not me, sir, no, sir. Never crossed my mind, sir.

Baird smiled. "We need a good liar for this particular service. So maybe you're an excellent choice, Sharpe. Besides, anyone who looks at your back will know why you wanted to desert. Baird liked that idea and his face betrayed a sudden enthusiasm. 'In fact if you hadn't already conveniently had yourself flogged, man, we might have had to give you a few lashes anyway! He smiled.

Sharpe did not smile back. Instead he looked warily from one officer to the other. He could see that Mister Lawford was nervous, Baird was doing his best to be friendly, General Harris's face was unreadable, while Colonel Wellesley had turned away in disgust. But Wellesley had always been a cold fish, so there was no point in trying to gain his approval. Baird was the man who had saved him, Sharpe guessed, and that fitted with Baird's reputation in the army. The Scotsman was a soldier's general, a brave man and well liked by the troops.

Baird smiled again, trying to put Sharpe at his ease. 'Let me explain why you're running, Sharpe. Three days ago we lost a good man, a Colonel McCandless. The Tippoo's forces captured him and, so far as we know, they took him back to Seringapatam. We want you to go to that city and be captured by the Tippoo's forces. Are you understanding me this far?

'Yes, sir, Sharpe said obediently.

'Good man. Now, when you reach Seringapatam the Tippoo will want you to join his army. He likes to have white men in his ranks, so you won't have any trouble taking his shilling. And once you're trusted your job is to find Colonel McCandless and bring him out alive. Are you still following me, now?

'Yes, sir, Sharpe said stoically, and wondered why they did not first ask him to hop over to London and steal the crown jewels. Bloody idiots! Put a bit of gold lace on a man's coat and his brain turned to mush! Still, they were doing what he wanted them to do, which was kicking him out of the army and so he sat very still, very quiet and very straight, not so much out of respect, but because his back hurt like the very devil every time he moved.

'You won't be going alone, Baird told Sharpe. 'Lieutenant Lawford volunteered your services and he's going as well. He'll pretend to be a private and a deserter, and your job is to look after him.

'Yes, sir, Sharpe said, and hid his dismay that perhaps things were not going to be quite so easy after all. He could not just run now, not with Lawford tied to his apron strings. He glanced at the Lieutenant, who gave him a reassuring smile.

'The thing is, Sharpe, Lawford said, still smiling, T'm not too certain I can pass myself off as a private. But they'll believe you, and you can say I'm a new recruit.

A new recruit! Sharpe almost laughed. You could no more pass the Lieutenant off as a new recruit than you could pass Sharpe off as an officer! He had an idea then, and the idea surprised him, not because it was a good idea, but because it implied he was suddenly trying to make this idiotic scheme work. 'Better if you said you was a company clerk, sir. He muttered the words too softly, made shy by the presence of so many senior officers.

'Speak up, man! Wellesley snarled.

'It would be better, sir, Sharpe said so loudly that he was verging on insolence, 'if the Lieutenant said he was a company clerk, sir.

'A clerk? Baird asked. 'Why?

'He's got soft hands, sir. Clean hands, sir. Clerks don't muck about in the dirt like the rest of us. And recruits, sir, they're usually just as filthy-handed as the rest of us. But not clerks, sir. Harris, who had been writing, looked up with a faint expression of admiration. 'Put some ink on his hands, sir, Sharpe still spoke to Baird, 'and he won't look wrong.

'I like it, Sharpe, indeed I do! Baird said. 'Well done.

Wellesley sneered, then pointedly stared through one of the tent openings as though he found the proceedings tiresome. General Harris looked at Lawford. 'You could manage to play the part of a disgruntled clerk, Lieutenant? he asked.

'Oh, indeed, sir. I'm sure, sir. Lawford at last sounded confident.

'Good, Harris said, laying down his pen. The General wore a wig to hide the scar where an American bullet had torn away a scrap of his skull on Bunker Hill. Now, unconsciously, he lifted a corner of the wig and scratched at that old scar. 'And I suppose, once you reach the city, you contact this merchant. Remind me of his name, Baird?

'Ravi Shekhar, sir.

'And what if this fellow Shekhar ain't there? Harris asked. 'Or won't help? There was silence after the question. The sentries outside the tent, moved far enough away so they could not overhear the conversation, stamped up and down.

A dog barked. 'You have to anticipate these things, Harris said mildly, scratching again under his wig. Wellesley offered a harsh laugh, but no suggestion.

'If Ravi Shekhar won't help us, sir, Baird suggested, 'then Lawford and Sharpe must get themselves into McCandless's jail, then find a way of getting themselves out. "The Scotsman turned to Sharpe. 'Were you by any chance a thief before you joined up?

A heartbeat's hesitation, then Sharpe nodded. 'Yes, sir.

'What kind of a thief? Wellesley asked in a disgusted voice as though he was astonished to discover the ranks of his battalion contained criminals, and, when Sharpe did not answer, the Colonel became even more irritable. 'A diver? A scamp?

Sharpe was surprised that his Colonel even knew such slang. He shook his head indignantly, denying he had ever been a mere pickpocket or a highwayman. 'I was a house boner, sir, he said. 'And proper trained too, he added proudly. In fact he had done his share on the highway, not so much holding up coaches as slicing the leather straps that held the passengers' portmanteaus on the back of coaches. The job was done while the coach was speeding along a road so that the noise of the hooves and wheels would hide the sound of the tumbling luggage. It was a job for agile youngsters and Sharpe had been good at it.

'A house boner means he was a burglar, Wellesley translated for his two senior officers, unable to hide his scorn.

Baird was pleased with Sharpe's answers. 'Do you still have a picklock, Private?

'Me, sir? No, sir. But I suppose I could find one, sir, if I had a guinea.

Baird laughed, suspecting the true cost was nearer a shilling, but he still went to his coat which was hanging from a hook on one of the tent poles and fished out a guinea which he tossed onto Sharpe's lap. 'Find one before tonight, Private Sharpe, he said, 'for who knows, it might be useful. He turned to Harris. 'But I doubt it will come to that, sir. I pray it doesn't come to that for I'm not sure that any man, even Private Sharpe here, can escape from the Tippoo's dungeons. The tall General turned back to Sharpe. 'I was near four years in those cells, Sharpe, and in all that time not one man escaped. Not one. Baird paced restlessly as he remembered the ordeal. 'The Tippoo's cells have barred doors with padlocks, so your picklock could take care of that, but when I was there we always had four jailers in the daytime, and some days there were even jettis on guard.

'Jettis, sir? Lawford asked.

'Jettis, Lieutenant. The Tippoo inherited a dozen of the bastards from his father. They're professional strongmen and their favourite trick is executing prisoners. They have several ways of doing it, none of them pleasant. You want to know their methods?

'No, sir, Lawford said hurriedly, blanching at the thought. Sharpe was disappointed, but dared not ask for the details.

Baird grimaced. 'Very unpleasant executions, Lieutenant, he said grimly. 'You still want to go?

Lawford remained pale, but nodded. 'I think it's worth a try, sir.