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nt； a mission that could guarantee success； had persuaded Harris to allow McCandless to risk himself； and now McCandless was taken and Harris was being offered a chance to fetch him back； or at least to retrieve McCandless's news； even if the Colonel himself could not be fetched out of the Tippoo's dungeons。 Harris was not so confident of British success in the campaign that he could disregard such a windfall。 'But how in God's name is this fellow Lawford supposed to survive inside the city？' Harris had asked。
'Easy！' Baird had answered scornfully。 'The Tippoo's only too damned eager for European volunteers； so we dress young Lawford in a private's uniform and he can pretend to be a deserter。 He'll be weled with open arms！ They'll be hanging bloody flowers round his neck and giving him first choice of the bibbis。'
Harris had slowly allowed himself to be persuaded； though Wellesley； once introduced to the idea； had advised against it。 Lawford； Wellesley insisted； could never pass himself off as an enlisted man； but Wellesley had been overruled by Baird's enthusiasm and so Lieutenant Lawford had been summoned to Harris's tent where he had plicated matters by agreeing with his Colonel。 T'd dearly like to help； sir；' he had told Harris； 'but I'm not sure I'm capable of the pretence。'
'Good God； man；' Baird intervened； 'spit and swear！ It ain't difficult！'
'It will be very difficult；' Harris had insisted； staring at the diffident Lieutenant。 He was doubtful whether Lawford had the resources to carry off the deception； for the Lieutenant； while plainly a decent man； seemed guileless。
Then Lawford had plicated matters still further。 'I think it would be more plausible； sir；' he suggested respectfully； 'if I could take another man with me。 Deserters usually run in pairs； don't they？ And if the man is the genuine article； a ranker； it'll be altogether more convincing。''Makes sense； makes sense；' Baird had put in encouragingly。
'You have a man…in mind？' Wellesley had asked coldly。
'His name is Sharpe； sir；' Lawford said。 'They're probably about to flog him。'
'Then he'll be no damned use to you；' Wellesley said in a tone which suggested the matter was now closed。
'I'll go with no one else； sir；' Lawford retorted stubbornly； addressing himself to General Harris rather than to his Colonel； and Harris was pleased to see this evidence of backbone。 The Lieutenant； it seemed； was not quite so diffident as he appeared。
'How many lashes is this fellow getting？' Harris asked。
'Don't know； sir。 He's standing trial now； sir； and if I wasn't here I'd be giving evidence on his behalf。 I doubt his guilt。'
The argument over whether to employ Sharpe had continued over a midday meal of rice and stewed goat。 Wellesley was refusing to intervene in the court martial or its subsequent punishment； declaring that such an act would be prejudicial to discipline； but William Lawford stubbornly and respectfully refused to take any other man。 It had； he said； to be a man he could trust。 'We could send another officer；' Wellesley had suggested； but that idea had faltered when the difficulties of finding a reliable volunteer were explored。 There were plenty of men who might go； but few were steady； and the steady ones would be too sensible to risk their precious missions on what Wellesley scathingly called a fool's errand。 'So why are you willing to go？' Harris had asked Lawford。 'You don't look like a fool。'
'I trust I'm not； sir。 But my uncle gave me the money to purchase my mission。'
'Did he； by God！ That's damned generous。'
'And I hope I'm damned grateful； sir。'
'Grateful enough to die for him？' Wellesley put in sourly。
Lawford had coloured； but stuck to his guns。 'I suspectPrivate Sharpe is resourceful enough for both of us； sir。'
The decision whether or not to employ Sharpe belonged； in the end； to General Harris who privately agreed with Wellesley that to spare a man his well…earned punishment was to display a dangerous laxity； but at last； persuaded that extraordinary measures were needed to save McCandless； the General surrendered to Baird's enthusiasm and so； with a heavy heart； Harris had ordered the unfortunate Sharpe fetched to the tent。 Which was why； at long last； Private Richard Sharpe limped into the wan； yellow light cast through the tent's high canvas。 He was dressed in a clean uniform； but everyone in the tent could see that he was still in dreadful pain。 He moved stiffly； and the stifihess was not just caused by the yards of bandage that circled his torso； but by the agony of every movement of his body。 He had tried to wash the blood out of his hair and had succeeded in taking out most of the powder as well so that when Colonel Wellesley told him to take off his shako he appeared with curiously mottled hair。
'I think you'd better sit； man；' General Baird suggested； with a glance at Harris for his permission。
'Fetch that stool；' Harris ordered Sharpe； then saw that the private could not bend down to pick it up。
Baird fetched the stool。 'Is it hurting？' he asked sympathetically。
'Yes； sir。'
'It's supposed to hurt；' Wellesley said curdy。 'Pain is the point of punishment。' He kept his back to Sharpe； pointedly demonstrating his disapproval。 'I do not like cancelling a flogging；' Wellesley went on to no one in particular。 'It erodes good order。 Once men think their sentences can be curtailed； then God only knows what roguery they'll be up to。' He suddenly twisted in his chair and gave Sharpe an icy glare。 'If I had my way； Private Sharpe； I'd march you back to the triangle and finish the job。''I doubt Private Sharpe even deserved the punishment；' Lawford dared to intervene； blushing as he did。
'The time for that sentiment； Lieutenant； was during the court martial！' Wellesley snapped； his tone suggesting that it would have been a wasted sentiment anyway。 'You've been lucky； Private Sharpe；' Wellesley said with distaste。 'I shall announce that you've been spared the rest of your punishment as a reward for fighting well the other day。 Did you fight well？'
Sharpe nodded。 'Killed my share of the enemy； sir。'
'So I'm muting your sentence。 And tonight； damn your eyes； you'll reward me by deserting。'
Sharpe wondered if he had heard right； decided it was best not to ask； and so he looked away from the Colonel； posed his face； and stared fixedly at the wall of the tent。
'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