The Scarlet Thief by Paul Fraser Collard Page B

could do nothing but look at Molly, the waxy pallor of death already stealing the vitality from her skin.
    Molly was dead.

Jack slowly became aware of the shouting, the cacophony of bellowing voices, the noise and bustle of soldiers, the dusty floor reverberating to the thump of army boots, the air full of braying voices of command.
    ‘Stay where you are, Lark.’
    Firm hands took hold of his upper arms, holding him hard as if he was expected to make a bolt for the door at any moment.
    Jack blinked hard at the tears clouding his vision and tried to make sense of what was happening.
    The room was full of redcoats. Half a dozen soldiers crowded into the cramped confines of the laundry’s outer reception room.
    ‘Molly?’ Jack’s voice wavered as he spoke.
    ‘Easy, lad. Behave yourself now.’ The voice was firm, devoid of compassion.
    ‘Where’s Slater?’
    ‘Colour Sergeant Slater is in the guardroom. God alone knows what happened here but it’s over now.’
    The horror surged through Jack’s mind. His head sagged with despair and he would have fallen had the two redcoats not been holding him.
    ‘Come on, lad, time to sort yourself out. You have to come with us. You’ve raised one hell of a shit storm and you’re right at the damn centre.’
    ‘It was Slater, he—’
    ‘Stow it. Save it for the colonel because I ain’t interested. I’ve been told to take you to the guardroom and keep you there.’
    ‘Guardroom?’ Jack’s head lifted and he stared at the corporal of the guard. He felt the redcoats holding him tighten their grip on his arms. Jack closed his eyes as he realised the small party of redcoats had not come to his rescue, they were here to detain him. To lock him away while the officers made sense of the dreadful events that had led to a young woman losing her life.
    ‘Attention!’
    The door to the guardroom was snatched open and the corporal stationed outside the room commanded the room’s occupants to rise. The three wooden chairs scraped the floor in unison as the officer strode in. Jack had been sitting in morose silence, guarded by two of his fellow redcoats. Now he stood and stared at the figure of Captain Sloames who looked back at him with a mixture of disappointment and embarrassment.
    ‘At ease. Thank you, Corporal, you and your men may leave us.’ Sloames dismissed the men charged with guarding the prisoner. He kept up his scrutiny of Jack’s face as he did so, as if trying to discern his orderly’s guilt in his expression.
    ‘This is a most distressing episode, Lark, most distressing.’ Sloames held his hands behind his back and paced slowly around the room, looking more like a lawyer than an officer in the Queen’s army. ‘I have sent a message to the colonel and he has charged me to discover what events led to today’s terrible accident and to take whatever action I deem necessary. I have listened to Colour Sergeant Slater’s account of the events and in the interests of justice I would like to hear your side of the story.’
    Jack looked at his officer, barely hearing the words spoken to him. He didn’t feel the pain in his body, the effects of Slater’s beating not registering in his mind. But his soul felt as if it had been cleaved in two.
    ‘Silence won’t help you now, Lark.’ Sloames spoke slowly as if to a difficult child. ‘You must tell me what happened.’
    ‘Slater.’ Jack whispered the name. ‘Slater killed her.’
    Sloames closed his eyes as if in sudden pain. He looked at Jack for what seemed like a long time before he spoke again.
    ‘Slater accuses you.’
    ‘Slater’s a fucking liar.’ Jack’s voice was raw.
    Sloames’s mouth twisted in distaste. ‘Mind your tongue. Need I remind you that you are in a great deal of trouble? One more such outburst and I shall leave this room immediately and abandon you to your fate. Is that clear?’
    Jack struggled to contain his grief. He knew how the battalion worked; Tom Black’s savage flogging on a