‘Proves? What, sir?’
Windham smiled. ‘I think we know where our thief comes from. Only one Company would know that pack!’ He pointed at Sharpe’s gradually soaking clothes in their French pig-skin pack. He turned to Major Collett. ‘Parade the Light Company, Jack. Search every man. ‘
Sharpe tried to protest. ‘Sir?’
Windham whipped round on him, held out the crop accusingly. ‘If you had stayed on guard, Sharpe, instead of gallivanting on the hill, this would not have happened. Stay out of it!’
Hakeswill! It had to be Hakeswill! Sharpe knew it, and knew with an utter certainty that the accusation would never be proved. The theft of the telescope, at least, had to have been done in the afternoon because Sharpe had seen the glass in his pack at midday. The Light Company, or most of them, had been with Sharpe fighting the French, but he suddenly remembered the awkward, lumbering figure of the yellow-faced Sergeant hurrying back towards the baggage. The loot would all be hidden by now. And the guards whom Sharpe had left to watch the baggage would all have wandered to the hilltop to see the fight. He strapped up the buckles of his pack. Major Forrest waited till the other officers had filed out the gate. ‘I’m sorry, Sharpe.’
‘I don’t think it’s the Light Company, sir.’
‘I meant about the telescope.’
Sharpe grunted. Forrest was a decent man, always wanting others to be content. The Rifleman shrugged. ‘It’s gone, sir. It won’t come back.’ Hakeswill was too clever a thief to be discovered.
Forrest shook his head unhappily. ‘I don’t believe it. And we used to be such a happy battalion!’ His face suddenly changed, became curious. ‘Sharpe?’
‘Sir?’
‘Colonel Windham said you were married. I didn’t like to contradict him.’
‘Did you, sir?’
‘Good Lord, no! Are you?’
Sharpe shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
‘But he said you told him you were.’
Sharpe squatted back on his heels and smiled up at the Major. ‘I did.’
‘For God’s sake, why?’
‘Don’t know, sir. It just came out.’
‘But, Good Lord, Sharpe. It goes on your papers, it… ” Forrest gave up. ‘Why don’t you tell him the truth?’
‘I quite like the idea, sir.’
Forrest laughed. ‘Well I never. I thought it was odd when he mentioned it, but I thought it could be true. You’re such a private fellow, Sharpe.’
‘The way I’m going, sir, I probably will be soon.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Forrest frowned. ‘There’ll be a Captaincy soon. There nearly was this afternoon. Poor Sterritt tripped over and had a bayonet through his jacket.’
Sharpe said nothing. He had shamelessly searched the survivors to see if any Captain was missing, but they all seemed to bear charmed lives and a remarkable freedom from disease in the foul weather. He stood up and slung his pack on one shoulder. Over the hill came the thumps of the French guns, a sound so common that men hardly noticed it any more. As common as the endless hissing of the rain.
Forrest looked over his shoulder, at the parading Light Company. This is sad, Sharpe. Very sad.’
Windham paraded them and the Sergeant Major called each man forward in turn to have pouches, haversack and pack emptied on to a groundsheet. Another Sergeant went through the packets. Sharpe turned away. He found it sad, too, and unnecessary. He would have paraded them and given them ten minutes to come up with the thief or face the consequences; if, that is, he really believed that one of the Company was the thief. Forrest shook his head. ‘He’s very thorough, Sharpe.’
‘Not really, sir.’
‘What do you mean?’
Sharpe gave a tired smile. ‘When I was in the ranks, sir, we had packs with false bottoms. He’s not looking inside the shakoes. Anyway, a real thief won’t have the stuff anymore.’
‘He’s hardly had time to get rid of it.’
‘Sir. One of the women could have it by now, he could have sold it all to the Sutler for a few shillings and a bottle or two. It could be hidden. It won’t be found. We’re just wasting our time.’
A horseman pulled up outside the sheepfold and saluted Forrest. ‘Sir?’