Reunion

Before they headed south, Throckmorton needed to visit Wiggy. He wanted to speak to his old friend and comrade about this mad quest. He also needed to find out why a member of the regiment had been murdered. Throckmorton knew where the barracks lay and headed straight there. A quick discussion with the gate guard saw him into Wiggy’s office. The conversation was straightforward.

“I shall be straight with you, Throckmorton,” Wiggy announced, “The item I mentioned is supposed to be a tribal fetish of great value. The natives think it has real power too. We led an expedition southwards against some bolshie natives, you know. Along the way we captured a rather odd bird. He looked like a lot of the locals but really was much more arrogant than any of them. He and a bunch of other natives in animal masks tried ambushing us but good Sheffield steel saw them off. After that, I put two and two together and wrote to you. We have had a couple of chaps go missing recently. One of them was Private Andrew Friend. It is possible that he was murdered because he was on that patrol and saw something that he failed to report but I am dashed if I know what. Sometimes the chaps do that, you know. They think they can make a profit behind our backs but in this case it seems to have gone badly wrong. If you are heading down that way, I would watch out for our deserters. If they have got too big for their boots then they may think they can set themselves up as tribal gods and live the life of Riley. It rarely works, mind. More than once we have found these chaps butchered and strung up. They forget that once their ammo runs out they are on an equal footing with the bloodthirsty savages. By then, though, it is too late for them.”

With the real work out of the way, the pair reminisced about the old days, and Throckmorton returned to his hotel with rather too much port in him.

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