in his middle thirties but looked a good deal younger.

He kicked a protruding leg farther under the holly, and looked at his hands with disgust.

John said: 'Go in and have a wash, if you like. I'll look after things. It will be time for reveille soon, anyway.'

'Thanks, Mr distance. Nasty job, that. I didn't see anything as bad as that during the war.'

When he had gone, John had another look round the environs of the house. The man who had had the grenades had had a rifle as well; it lay near where he had lain, bent and useless. There was no sign of any other weapon; that belonging to the other corpse had presumably been taken away in the retreat.

He found nothing else, apart from two or three cartridge clips and a number of spent cartridge cases. He was looking for signs of Pirrie or Jane, but there was nothing. In the dawn light, the valley stretched away, without sign of life. The sky was still clear. It looked like a good day lying ahead.

He thought of calling again, and then decided it would be useless. Secombe came back out of the house, and John looked at his watch.

'All right. You can get them up now.'

Breakfast was almost ready and there were sounds of the children moving about when John heard Roger exclaim:

'Good God!'

They were in the front room from which John had directed operations during the night. John followed Roger's gaze out of the shattered window. Pirrie was coming up the garden path, his rifle under his arm; Jane walked just behind him.

John called to him: 'Pirrie! What the hell have you been up to?'

Pirrie smiled slightly. 'Would you not regard that as a