"Begging your pardon sir," Riley stood inside the warm hut that had replaced the weather-battered tent. "Colonel Maxwell sends his compliments and could Lieutenant Windrush join him at his earliest convenience."
"Thank you, Riley. I will come immediately." Such a polite summons from the commanding officer was tantamount to an order.
The stocky, impassive-faced Tartar stood beside Maxwell, facing Jack as he stepped into the hut.
"This is Ansar," Maxwell explained at once. "He is a Tartar, one of the men in the service of Charley Cattley. It was Ansar who gave us intelligence that led to your fine victory over the Cossacks a few weeks ago."
"It was beneficial information," Jack said cautiously. He tried to hide his immediate twist of unease. During the last few weeks he had eased back in
