“Well, the light was there, Mr Sharpe. Distinctly visible from the sea,”
and he turned to his followers for confirmation.
“Oh, yes, a light plain enough,” said the one who had fallen into a
ditch, and wanted a bit of his own back.
“A candle!” said Sharpe, with his queer, musical note of derision and
fretfulness. “A candle just passing--”
“You have an uncurtained window to the sea, and lights were showing. I
shall have to report this to headquarters. Perhaps if you write and
apologise to Major Caerlyon it may be passed over, if nothing of the
like occurs again--”
So they departed, and the three went back to their room, fuming with
rage and mockery. They mocked the appearance and voice of the
lieutenant, the appearance of the weeds, and Harriet rejoiced over the
one who had fallen into a ditch. This regardless of the fact that they
knew now that _some_ of the watchers were lying listening in the gorse
bushes under the windows, and had been lying there all the evening.
“Shall you write and apologise?” said Somers.
“Apologise! no!” replied Sharpe, with peevish contempt.
Harriet and Somers went back home on the Monday. On the Tuesday appeared
Sharpe, the police had been and left him a summons to appear at the
market town, charged under the Defence of the Realm Act.
“I suppose you’ll have to go,” said Somers.
“Oh, I shall go,” said he.
They waited for the day. In the afternoon Sharpe came with a white face
and tears of rage and mortification in his eyes. The magistrate had
told him he ought to be serving his country, and not causing mischief
and skulking in an out-of-the-way corner. And had fined him twenty
pounds.
“_I_ shan’t pay it,” cried Sharpe.
“Your mother will,” said Somers.
And so it was. What was the good of putting oneself in their power in
_any_ way, if it could be avoided?
So the lower fields were cleared of corn, and they started on the two
big fields above on the moors. Sharpe cycled over to say a farmer had
asked _him_ to go and help at Westyr; and for once he had gone; but he
felt spiteful to Somers for letting him in for this.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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