Free Person or Persons Unknown by Bruce Alexander

rigid attention before us.
    “Your name, sir?” asked Sir John.
    “Sperling, Otis, Corporal, sahr’
    “You may sit down. Corporal. I have a few questions for you. I am, if you have not been told. Sir John Fielding, and I am Magistrate of the Bow Street Court.”
    “Prefer to stand, sahF”
    “Well, suit yourself. The questions I have are directed at you as a witness. No accusation has been made. I should like us both to be at our ease, and I cannot be at mine if you shout ‘sahr at me each time you address me. Now, please relax.”
    Corporal Sperling made an effort to do so, shifting to a less strenuous military posture. He managed also to say “As you will, sir” in a normal tone of voice as he ventured a glance at me.
    “You were given leave yesterday, I believe.”
    “I was, sir, though not the whole day.”
    “Tell me about it, if you would — what you did, who you saw, that sort of thing. Start with the time you left the Tower.”
    Corporal Sperling gave a good, brief accounting of his time after he had left the gate three o’clock in the afternoon in the company of his brother, Richard, and one Corporal Tigger, both of this regiment of Grenadier Guards. His plan, said he, was to take the five o’clock coach to Hammersmith with Richard, so that the two might dine with their parents; their father was a wheelwright in that community. They had separated early on, Richard agreeing to meet them at the coach house, and the two corporals going off together to enjoy themselves as they would.
    “And how did you two propose to do that?” asked Sir John.
    ”Oh, as soldiers usually do, sir — by drinking and yarning and offering complaints on the conduct of the regiment.” Then he added, “I will say, sir, that we was just passing the time together, and at no time did we take strong drink, just beer and ale, sir.”
    “I see. And where did you pass your time in this manner?”
    “Well, there was two places. The first was a place near the end of Fleet Street, which makes no objections to serving soldiers so long as they’re well behaved — the Cheshire Cheese.”
    “I know the place well and have drunk and dined there myself,” said Sir John. “And what was the second place?”
    “That would have been the Coach House Inn, where I was to meet my brother.”
    “And did Corporal Tigger remain with you there?”
    “Yes, sir, until Richard come and we left on the coach.”
    “And at no time were you direct in the area of Covent Garden, the two of you — or you alone?”
    “No, sir, I had no business there.”
    “I quite understand.” Sir John paused at that point, then gave in summary: “So you were in the company of Corporal Tigger from the time you left the Tower at three o’clock until you left with your brother, Richard, on the five o’clock coach to Hammersmith. Is it then so?”
    “To that I would have to say yes and no, sir.”
    “Oh? Explain yourself, please.”
    “Yes, I was with Tigger the whole time, but no, Richard and I did not leave on the five o’clock coach.”
    “How was that?”
    “Richard was late. I was quite cross with him, for there was not another coach until half past six. This was meant to be a party — a celebration, so to say, and we was late to it.”
    “And what were you celebrating?’
    “My promotion, sir.”
    “To corporal?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “Hmmph,” Sir John grunted, then fell silent for a long moment. “Corporal Sperling,” said he, “you say your brother arrived too late for you to leave on the five o’clock coach. When did he arrive?”
    “That I cannot say exact, for I did not then own a timepiece, though I do now. My father presented me one last night, sir.”
    “He must be very proud of you.”
    The corporal flushed with embarrassment, looked left and right and shuffled his feet. “As you say, sir.”
    “Give it to me approximate, then.”
    “Sir?” said he, frowning. Surely he had understood.
    “The time of your brother’s