“Yes. The chances usually right themselves in time.” There was something flat and listless in Hornblower’s tone as he spoke. He took several more strides before he burst out into speech again with a vigour that was in odd contrast. “I wish to God it had happened last week. Yesterday, even.”
“But why?”
“That girl. That poor girl.”
“God bless my soul!” said Bush. He had forgotten all about the fact that Maria had slipped half a crown into Hornblower’s pocket and he was surprised that Hornblower had not forgotten as well. “Why trouble your head about her?”
“I don’t know,” said Hornblower, and then he took two more strides. “But I do.”
Bush had no time to meditate over this curious avowal for he heard a sound that made him grasp Hornblower’s elbow with sudden excitement.
“Listen!”
Ahead of them, along the silent street, a heavy military tread could be heard. It was approaching. The faint light shone on white crossbelts and brass buttons. It was a military patrol, muskets at the slope, a sergeant marching beside it, his chevrons and his half pike revealing his rank.
“Now, what the deuce?” said Bush.
“Halt!” said the sergeant to his men; and then to the other two, “May I ask you two gentlemen who you are?”