Morgan's pipe was a semi-permanent extension to his face. It bobbed up and down comically as he addressed Willie McCallion at the wagon lines the next day.

"Well, did you get it?" asked Morgan.

Willie glanced around him and from under his greatcoat produced the silver case.

"Me, Lonergan and a couple of blokes from my brother's section jumped 'em last night. The Welsh bloke with the Jock name .. Dai Macallister and his chum, fella called Shaymen. I told 'em the yarn and they agreed to help."

Morgan frowned: "Don't spread the word too far son," he advised. "You watch your back with Hartley and don't take him for a fool."

Willie nodded and slipped the older soldier a greaseproof paper package.

"What's that lad?" asked Morgan.

"A wee thank-you Tom. The tip was spot on, about the ciggie box I mean. It's got quite a few souvenirs in there and the Taff bloke and Shaymen say they both recognise a piece of Bert's girl's dress. There's a few other bits and pieces in there but nothing we can pin down. Two locks of hair, buttons and an earring."

Morgan removed his pipe and tapped it on the edge of the supply wagon. He moved closer to McCallion.

"So what's your next step?" he asked.

Willie McCallion looked into the distance towards the front lines.

"We watch him. We haven't got enough to hang him yet, but he'll make a mistake Tom. His card is marked by more than just me now."