Play@YSDC

Harry gives his friends a discreet "we can trust him" nod.

Waving his cigar expansively, he addresses the major. "Our mutual acquaintance, Mr Paice, alerted us to the murder of Sergeant-Major Crouch and also the death of the other member of your regiment in unusual circumstances. My friends are of the view this is a strange coincidence that deserves more attention than the police are giving it."

"Myself, I am less convinced. Having said that, I am planning on writing a book of reminiscences of former army men come home. What is of interest and concern to us all is if something that happened back when you are all in uniform may be returning to haunt you now."

"It is my understanding the Buffs served in the Sudan campaigns. Perhaps you would be kind enough to share some of your experiences on campaign?"

The Major puffs out his cheeks. “I’m sure that it is just a terrible coincidence” he says confidently. “No doubt the murderer was an acquaintance of Crouch, and they had some disagreement.”

He takes a deep draught of Burgundy. “You want to hear about the Sudan, eh? You Prince Albert’s weren’t there, were you? It was a tough time, all right.”

Over the next hour he proceeds to give his account of his battalion’s service in Egypt and the Sudan, describing the heat, the dust, the flies, and the hard marching and fighting with the Mahdist forces, all the while enjoying several glasses of Burgundy. It all sounds quite familiar to our veterans. There don’t seem to be any particular references made as to why Reynolds and Crouch may have been targeted in the present. Gower seems to be particularly fond of cards, and speaks endearingly about the games he played with his fellow officers.

Outside the windows, a thick London fog has fallen.

Dr. Francis Preston

"Are you very well acquainted with Colonel Hollingsworth, Major? The man seems to have ruffled a few feathers but we were at his Kandahar House earlier today and he is clearly dong very well for himself. How he affords a pile like that on an army pension is beyond me."

Gower reddens. “Yes, I’m very well-acquainted with Colonel Hollingsworth” he says in a low voice. “And I can assure you that he is a brave, honourable man – a dedicated and knowledgeable warrior. Why, he’s like one of the knights of old! I’m proud to have served alongside him!”

The Major is becoming more irate. “He deserves everything he has!” he says more loudly. One or two heads turn at adjacent tables.

"No doubt he does," says Reg in a reassuring tone. "He must have some other source of income, is all. An inheritance, or some wise investments, perhaps."

Harry looks slightly alarmed at the turn the conversation has taken, and the danger of offending the major. He attempts to pour oil on troubled waters.

"Major, your loyalty to the colonel does you credit. And if he has other support than his army pension, that should be no surprise. Why, I myself could never have survived on just my army pay."

"Were there any unusual occurrences while the Buffs served in Africa? Beyond normal campaigning, of course."

Gower seems placated by these words and calms down a bit. He hesitates a little before answering though. “No, nothing unusual. Look, as I said earlier, Crouch’s death will probably be the result of some local dispute.”

He finishes his wine and stands up. “Well, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintances, but I must be returning home now”. He holds out his hand to shake with the three companions.

"Thank you for your time, Major," says Reg, giving his hand a good, firm shake.

Harry immediately rises and shakes the major's hand.

"So good of you to make time for us. Perhaps my friends and I are old men of action who still don't know when to withdraw from the field. Major, I hesitate to ask, but is there any way I could arrange a short meeting with the colonel? Just to absolutely ensure we have asked every question we should ask regarding the death of the sergeant-major and the other chap, of course."

"Any such meeting would be conducted with the utmost respect for the colonel, I assure you, on my word."

“Well” says the Major. “I haven’t seen the Colonel much lately, but I will pass on the request to him when I see him next. I don’t expect that he will know much more about the matter though.”

OOC,I'll see if Wruter wants to ask about anything else before the Major leaves.

Dr. Francis Preston

Preston shakes hands. "Good night, Major."

Gower collects his coat and leaves the club. The fog is even thicker now.

OOC,Are you all leaving too?

Harry sighs. "Well that could have gone better."

"Are we any closer to even connecting the death of this other chap Reynolds to the sergeant major?"

"I don't think we know anything more yet," says Reg. "Perhaps tomorrow we can find out more about that incident, but I don't think there's anything more we can do tonight."

Feeling somewhat deflated by their lack of progress, our companions leave the club and step out into the freezing, foggy night. As they discuss their next options, they hear the unmistakable sound of a police whistle being blown.

Reg races toward the sound of the whistle without hesitation, hoping there's something he can do to help.

Harry groans. "Sergeant-major! Dammit, man, we are not on the Queen's shilling anymore!"

Muttering under his breathe, he claps one hand on his top hat and hurries, at a slightly more sedate and gentlemanly pace, after the S-M.

Dr. Francis Preston

Preston does his best to keep up with the two former soldiers.

The companions race through the fog, in the direction of the whistles. As they come upon the scene, Reg in the lead, there are already two policemen there. They are staring up at a horrific scene illuminated by the light of a streetlamp; a man lays impaled on the spiked iron bars of a fence, with two of the spikes passing directly through his torso, and another through his shoulder. He is covered in blood, which also drips down the fence and is congealing on the ground. In the dim light, it is thick and black.

The constables are gaping in amazement – the fence is about 8 feet tall, and there are no adjacent buildings or trees that he could have fallen from.

“’Ow do we get ‘im dahn from ther’?” wonders one of them out loud, shocked and aghast. “”Ow did ‘e get up ther’?”

“I’ll fetch a ladder” says the other, racing off.

The man is unmoving, and appears quite dead.

As the companions move closer, they can see that the man is Major Gower.

Everyone,Roll SAN. If you fail, roll 1d4 for loss.