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‘Shut and get up.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
Unsteadily, I got to my feet. ‘What now?’ I wanted to know.
Holding up a finger, Mr Ambrose took two quick steps to the corner of the building and spied across the corner.
‘There is only one other building up here,’ he said, his voice hardly audible. I leaned closer. ‘Two guards, one on either side of the door.’
‘How will we get past them?’
‘I will trick them the same way I tricked the officer on the stairs.’
‘And what if they don't fall for it?’
He didn’t answer. And he didn’t really need to. I already knew.
‘Ready, Mr Linton?’
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders and tried to appear as male and soldierly as I possibly could.
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Three, two, one…now!’
We emerged from behind the building in what I hoped looked like lockstep, and not like a pair of gallivanting giraffes. The guards’ eyes immediately focused on us, and their hands closed more tightly around their rifles. Oh-oh. That was no good sign.
‘Afternoon, fellows.’ Mr Ambrose nodded to the men. He didn’t stop in his move towards them, obviously expecting them to step aside. ‘Ye can go and have a nice lie-down, now. Me and my mate, we’re taking over.’
The two men didn’t move an inch.
‘It ain’t time for the changing of the guard yet,’ Soldierly Exhibit A said. He was a broad-shouldered man with curly, blond hair and long ears. I had never trusted people with long ears. Spaniels had long ears, and so had the Prime Minister.
‘It ain’t?’ Again, Mr Ambrose took the watch out of his pocket and opened it. ‘Aye, it is. Look.’
Soldierly Exhibit A took a brief look at Mr Ambrose’s watch, then slid his hand into his pocket and took out his own.
‘Your watch is going wrong,’ he stated after a short examination. ‘I swear, it a
in’t time yet! It’s still more than half an hour.’
Mr Ambrose sighed. ‘My watch ain’t never wrong. Yours must be. Look, if ye don't believe me, go ask Colonel Townsend.’
The soldier’s long ears twitched at the name. ‘Colonel Townsend? He knows ye're here?’
‘He’s the one that sent us up here, pal. You can have it out with him, if ye want, but you ain’t gonna stop me and my mate from staying. This is our shift, and we’re gonna do as we was told.’
The long-eared guard bit down on his lower lip. The name of the officer had apparently eradicated his suspicions and simultaneously sown doubts in his mind about the reliability of his watch. You could almost hear the words - after all, the modern trash today ain’t very reliable, things ain’t what they used to be…
‘All right,’ he growled. ‘But if I find out ye've been pulling one over on me, pal, I’ll get back at you, don't ye doubt it.’
Mr Ambrose gave a little snort of derision. ‘Why d'ye think I’d wanna do that, eh? Do I look like I enjoy pushing my legs in my liver? I’d rather sit down and have a drink than stand around all day for no good reason.’
‘There’s a reason, all right,’ the guard growled. ‘Whatever’s in that place,’ he pointed to the hut he had been guarding, ‘is pretty important.’
‘Aye, aye, be off with you.’ Mr Ambrose waved them away. ‘Don’t ye fear. We ain’t gonna let anybody nick My Lord’s stuff.’
‘Ye'd better not.’
