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'You did？' Lawford asked with a trace of indignation。 He was wondering just how well Sharpe knew the girl； then he decided it was better not to ask。 'Of course I'll look after her；' Lawford said； still blushing； then he noted that Sharpe； despite his own advice； had still not donned his red coat。 'Where are you going？' the Lieutenant asked。
'Got a job to do； sir；' Sharpe answered vaguely。 'And； sir？ Can I thank you； sir？ I couldn't have done any of this without you。' Sharpe was not used to offering such heartfelt pliments and he spoke awkwardly。 'You're a brave bugger； sir； you really are。'
Lawford felt absurdly pleased。 He knew he should have stopped Sharpe from leaving； for this was no time for a man to be roaming Seringapatam's streets； but Sharpe was already gone。 Lawford turned his coat the right side out and pushedhis arms through the sleeves。 Gudin； beside him； waved away a fly and wondered why the dust and smoke did not keep the pests away。 'What will they do with me； Lieutenant？' he asked Lawford。
'They'll treat you well； sir； I'm sure。 They'll probably send you back to France。'
'I'd like that；' Gudin said and suddenly realized that was all he really did want。 'Your Private Sharpe 。 。 。' he said。
'Sergeant Sharpe now； sir。'
'Your Sergeant Sharpe； then。 He's a good man； Lieutenant。'
'Yes； sir；' Lawford said； 'he is。'
'If he lives； he'll go far。'
'If he lives； sir； yes。' And if the army lets him live； Lawford thought。
'Look after him； Lieutenant；' Gudin said。 'An army isn't made of its officers； you know； though we officers like to think it is。 An army is no better than its men； and when you find good men； you must look after them。 That's an officer's job。'
'Yes； sir；' Lawford said dutifully。 The first fugitives from the walls were visible at the end of the alley now； men in dust…smeared tiger tunics who staggered or limped away from the fighting。 The noise of that fight was the continuous staccato of musket fire； shouts and screams； and it could not be long before the first murderous attackers broke into the streets。 Lawford wondered if he should have demanded Gudin's sword； then worried about having allowed Sharpe to go off on his own。
Sharpe lived so far。 He had thought about putting on his red coat； then decided there was no point in making himself conspicuous； even though the coat was now so filthy that it hardly looked like a uniform any more； and so he left the turned jacket knotted about his neck and； with two muskets slung on each shoulder； ran northwards through the city。 The crackle of muskets was constant； but above that crisp soundhe could also hear the roar of maddened men going into a brutal fight。 In a few minutes that fight would spread into the city and Sharpe planned to use those minutes well。 He ran through the small square where the rocket carts were still parked and then hurried past the Inner Palace where a tiger…striped guard； thinking that Sharpe was a deserter from the Tippoo's European troops； shouted a challenge at him； but by the time the guard had cocked his musket Sharpe had already disappeared into the labyrinth of alleys and yards that lay to the north of the palace。
He pushed through a crowd of fearful women； passed the cheetah cages and so went back to the dungeons。 The bodies of the three jettis were crawling with flies and beyond them the outer gate of the dungeons still swung open。 Sharpe ran through the gate and jumped down the stairs to where his tiger lay dead。
'Sharpie！' Hakeswill came to the bars。 'You came back； lad！ I knew you would。 So what's happening； lad？ No！ Don't do that！' Hakeswill had seen Sharpe take a musket from his shoulder。 'I like you； boy； always have！ I might have seemed a bit hard on you at times； but only for your own good； Sharpie。 You're a good boy； you are。 You're a proper soldier。 No！' Sharpe had aimed the musket。
Sharpe turned the muzzle away from Hakeswill and aimed it at the padlock。 He did not want to waste time with the picklock so he simply held the musket against the ancient loop of the padlock and pulled the trigger。 The iron loop sheared and the lock fell from the hasp。 Sharpe dragged the cell door open。 'I've e to get you； Obadiah；' he said。
'Knew you would； Sharpie； knew you would。' Hakeswill's face twitched。 'Knew you wouldn't leave your sergeant to rot。'
'So e on out；' Sharpe said。
Hakeswill hung back。 'No hard feelings； lad？'
T'm not a lad； Obadiah。 I'm a sergeant like you are。 I'vegot Colonel Wellesley's promise； I have。 I'm a sergeant now； just like you。'
'So you are； so you are； and so you should be。' Hakeswill's face twitched again。 'I said as much to Mister Morris； didn't I？ That Sharpie； I said； he's a sergeant in the making if ever I did see one。 A good lad； I told him。 Got my eye on him； sir。 That's what I told Mister Morris。'
Sharpe smiled。 'So e on out here； Obadiah。'
Hakeswill backed all the way to the cell's rear wall。 'Better to stay here； Sharpie；' he said。 'You know what the lads are like when their blood's boiling。 Might get hurt out there。 Best to stay put a while； let the lads settle it first； eh？'
Sharpe crossed the cell in two strides and gripped Hakeswill's collar。 'You e with me； you bastard；' he said； tugging the whimpering Sergeant forward。 'I should kill you here； you scum； but you don't deserve a soldier's death； Obadiah。 You're too rotten for a bullet。'
'No； Sharpie； no！' Hakeswill screamed as Sharpe dragged him out of the cell； across the tiger's carcass and up the stone steps。 'I ain't done nothing to you！'
'Nothing！' Sharpe turned furiously on Hakeswill。 〃You had me flogged； you bastard； and then you betrayed us！'
'I never did！ Cross my heart and hope to die； Sharpie！'
Sharpe spun Hakeswill up against the bars of the dungeon's outer cage； slamming him against the iron rods； then punched the Sergeant in the chest。 'You're going to die； Obadiah； I promise。 Because you did betray us。'
'I didn't do nothing；' Hakeswill said through his laboured breathing。 'On my mother's dying breath； Sharpie； I didn't。 The flogging； yes。 I did do that to you； and I was wrong！' He tried to fall to his knees； but Sharpe dragged him upright。 'I didn't betray you； Sharpie。 I wouldn't do that to another Englishman。'
'You'll still be telling lies when you go dirough the gates of hell； Obadiah；' Sharpe said as he grabbed the Sergeant'scollar again。 'Now e on； you bastard。' He pulled Hakeswill through the dungeon's outer gate； across the courtyard and into the alley which led south towards the palace。 A squad of tiger…striped soldiers ran past the mouth of the alley； going to the western walls； but none took any notice of Sharpe。 The guard on the northern palace gate did notice him and levelled his musket； but Sharpe snarled the magic words at the man； 'Gudin！ Colonel Gudin；' and such was the confidence in Sharpe's voice that the guard lowered the musket and stepped aside。
'Where are you taking me； Sharpie？' Hakeswill panted。
'You'll find out。'
Two more guards were stationed at the inner courtyard gate and they too pointed their muskets； but Sharpe shouted at them and once again Gudin's name was a talisman sufficient to allay their suspicions。 Besides； Sharpe had a red…coated prisoner； and the two nervous guards mistook him for one of Gudin's men and so let him pass。
Sharpe lifted the gate's latch and dragged it open。 The six tigers； already disturbed by the terrible noises that had been battering about the city； leapt towards the opening gate and their six chains cracked taut。 Hakeswill saw the animals and screamed。 'No； Sharpie！ No！ Mother！'
Sharpe dragged the struggling Hakeswill into the courtyard。 'You reckon you can't die； Obadiah？ I reckon different。 So when you get to hell； you bastard； tell them it was Sergeant Sharpe who sent you。'
'No； Sharpie！ No！' This last word was a yelp of despair as Sharpe pulled Hakeswill into the centre of the courtyard and there spun him around at arm's length。 'No！' the Sergeant wailed as Sharpe spun him faster； then Sharpe suddenly let go of Hakeswill's collar。 The Sergeant was unbalanced and out of control。 He staggered and flailed his arms； but nothing could stop his momentum。 'No！' he screamed a last time as he fell and slid across the sand to where three tigers waited。
'Goodbye； Obadiah；' Sharpe said； 'you bastard。'
'I cannot die！' Hakeswill screamed； then his cry was cut off as a great yellow…eyed beast growled above him。
'They've got an early supper；' Sharpe told the bemused guards on the gate。 'Hope they've got an appetite。'
The guards； not understanding a word； grinned back。 Sharpe took one look behind； spat； and walked away。 A debt； he reckoned； was properly paid。 Now all he needed to do was hide till the redcoats came。 And then he saw the pearl…hung palanquin； and another debt came to mind。
For a time it seemed as if the Tippoo could hold his city。 He fought like a tiger himself； knowing that this blaze of violence beneath a smoke…shrouded sun would decide his fate。 It would be the tiger throne or the grave。
He did not know what was happening on the southern stretch of the walls； except that the distant fury of constant musket fire told him that fighting continued there； he only knew that he and his men were taking a terrible toll of the attackers on the northern wall。 The Tippoo had been forced slowly back by the sheer weight of numbers that poured onto the ramparts； and that bloody retreat had driven him off the western ramparts； back around the corner by the remnants of the north…western bastion and so onto the long stretch of northern wall which faced towards the River Cauvery； but there his retreat had stopped。 A cushoon of infantry had been stationed in the Sultan Battery； the largest bastion in the north wall； and that garrison hurried along the walls to reinforce the Tippoo who now possessed enough men to overwhelm the musketry of the attackers on the narrow northern firestep。 The Tippoo still led the fight。 He was dressed in a white linen tunic and loose chintz drawers with a red silk sash about his waist。 He had jewelled armlets； the great ruby glittered on the feathered plume of his helmet； there were pearls and an emerald necklace at his throat and the gold…hilted tiger swordat his side。 Those gaudy stones made him a target for every redcoat and sepoy； yet he insisted on staying in the very front rank where he could pour his rifle fire at the stalled attackers； and his charms worked； for though the bullets flicked close none hit him。 He was the tiger of Mysore； he could not die； only kill。
The attackers suffered even worse damage from the men on the inner wall。 That wall had not been breached； it had not even been attacked； and more and more tiger…striped infantry hurried up its ramps to reinforce the defenders。 They fired across the inner ditch and their musket balls flayed at the crowded attackers and their cannon fire cleared whole stretches of the outer wall。 Only the blinding powder smoke that hung between the walls protected the attackers； who either endured the terrible flank fire or else crouched behind dismounted cannon and prayed that their ordeal would soon end。 They had captured the north…western corner of the outer wall； but it seemed to have gained them nothing but death； for now it was the turn of the Tippoo's men to be the slaughterers。
Baird； heading south from the breach； encountered similar resistance； but Baird was in no mood to be delayed。 He caught up and passed the survivors of the Forlorn Hope and； shouting like a demon； led a crazed charge past the ruined gatehouse where the remnants of the Tippoo's mine smoked like the pit of hell。 Baird was a major general； but he would gladly have given all the gold lace on his uniform for this one chance to fight like a mon soldier。 This was revenge； and the great claymore hacked into the Tippoo's men as Baird bellowed his challenge that mingled fury with the agonized memories of his humiliation in this city。 He fought like a creature possessed； stepping over the dead and slipping on their blood as he carried the battle down the walls。 His men howled with him。 They were caught up in Baird's madness。 At this hour； under the fire of the sun and emboldened by the arrack and rum they had drunk in their long wait