I should confess at this point, the solution to the need for cannon fire in the 1812 Overture did not spring from my own imagination. I borrowed it from "Sugar Plums", a piece performed by the Dolmetsch Ensemble for one of the Hoffnung Music Festivals during the 1950s. The audio is on Youtube, but regrettably there appears to be no surviving video.


"What – on – earth – ?"

"Quite right, too, Kommandant," responded Hogan briskly. "I'll grant you, they're playing it pretty well. But the 1812 Overture with no cannons? It just won't work. Say, Colonel Klink, d'you think there's a chance we could borrow...?

"No, I do not," snapped Klink, with an uneasy glance at Beckmesser. The general had shown no reaction to the music; if he'd taken it as a sly dig at his Russian experience, he had too much self-control to let on.

Sensing the Kommandant's wrath, Langenscheidt had scurried forward towards the recreation hall. He flung the door open and stepped inside, with a high-pitched "Achtung!"

He might have saved his breath. The orchestra was in full flight, and there was no stopping them now. As they threw themselves into the main theme, the conductor's voice rang out: "Ready, cannons! And – fire!"

"What?" squeaked Klink.

As if in reply, a fusillade of pops rang out. Klink ducked, and Hogan almost burst out laughing. Every time he thought he knew what the men under his command were capable of, they found a way to surprise him.

With a final sweep of his baton, which sent the music score flying from its roughly constructed stand, Doyle brought the final triumphant chord to its end, and turned to acknowledge the vociferous applause from Hogan, the Countess and Leonore. Somewhat timidly, Langenscheidt joined in, resolutely avoiding the glare Klink turned on him.

"Bravo! Fantastic!" Hogan gave the conductor a quizzical grin. "Just tell me one thing. Where'd you get the pop-guns?"

Doyle glanced at the hollowed-out wooden tubes, each fitted with a piston and a cork on a length of string, which had provided the necessary cannon fire. But before he could explain, the girl skipped forward, holding out her hands: "Timothy! How lovely to see you again! You remember me, don't you?"

She barely came up to his shoulder, and she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. Remarkably, he held on to his composure pretty well. "How could I possibly forget?" he murmured, taking her hand and raising it to his lips; a courtly gesture which clearly won the approval of her grandmother, although a spark of displeasure kindled in Beckmesser's eye.

"Leonore," he said coldly, "please do not forget yourself. This man is an enemy of the Third Reich."

The Countess dismissed this with an elegant wave of her hand: "Oh, please! Besides, they are old friends. They were at school together."

"So I have been told," Beckmesser replied. "In Paris, wasn't it?"

It was a trap, but Doyle didn't fall for it. Either Carter or LeBeau must have clued him up with the right answer, which he produced instantly: "London, actually. But it was a very long time ago."

He spoke as if his twenty-four years of age lay heavily upon him, and Leonore sighed in sympathy: "Ever so long. But never mind that. Let me tell you why I'm here. You see, I need a pianist to accompany me in a performance of Schumann's Frauenliebe und Leben, and of course I thought of you."

Doyle glanced at Hogan. "How very flattering. But I'm afraid it's out of the question, in view of my current situation. Can't you find a capable accompanist who isn't...?" He finished with a broad gesture which seemed to encompass, not just the dingy interior of the recreation hall, but the whole of the stark environs outside.

"Yes, but nobody as good as you, and certainly not before tomorrow evening."

"Tomorrow?" Doyle blinked, for once thrown off balance. "I'm sorry, but it's quite impossible."

"I'll say it is," Hogan put in. "There's rules about that kind of thing. Fraternisation is strictly out of bounds. The Kommandant would never stand for it. Right, sir?"

"Well, let's not be hasty, Hogan," said Klink. "After all..."

He fell silent, as the Countess took over: "The Kommandant sees no harm in it. And as Leonore's grandmother, nor do I. Is there anyone else we need to consult?"

"I imagine I might have a say in it," observed Doyle.

Leonore laid a hand on his arm. "Please don't say no. I can't tell you what it would mean to me."

There was a moment of silence. Doyle looked over the top of her head towards Hogan. "Well... perhaps..."

Hogan kept a surreptitious watch on Beckmesser. The tightness around the general's eye and the grim set of his mouth indicated his disapproval of the girl's behaviour, but he made no attempt to pull her into line. Hogan almost wished he would. If this young woman was trying to get Doyle into some pretty serious trouble, she was going the right way about it.

At any rate, they could do without the interested audience, although going by the dropped jaws, wide eyes and incredulous grins on the faces all around, getting rid of Doyle's musicians might not be easy. In fact, Hogan had to cough three times, quite loudly, before he managed to get their attention and signal his orders by jerking his head towards the door. Even then, they trailed out reluctantly. Carter hastily gathered up the scattered music pages, but when he offered them to the conductor, Doyle waved him away: "Later, old man."

As the door closed, Doyle turned back to Leonore: "Now, about this song cycle. I seem to recall playing it before, but it was some years ago. I'd have to polish it up before I could hope to reach performance standard."

She seemed momentarily at a loss, and cast her eyes around the room as if seeking inspiration. "You have a piano," she said tentatively.

"A very poor one," observed Doyle, "but it is in tune, at least. Carter's been working on it, and he's done an excellent job."

"I have the score with me. Perhaps, if I leave it with you..." She glanced at Beckmesser, "That would be allowable, wouldn't it?"

Beckmesser barely suppressed a smile; not a nice smile. "How very fortunate that you thought to bring it. Where is it?"

"I left it in the car. I'll just run over and..."

"No, I think not." No doubt about the smile this time. "Once again, I must remind you, Leonore, this is a prisoner of war camp, and you cannot run about like a schoolgirl." He glanced at Langenscheidt. "You, there – go to my car and... No, wait. I will go myself. Just to make sure it is the correct music."

Hogan wasn't close enough to hear Leonore's sotto voce response, but the look she cast at Beckmesser's back as he left was about as far from affectionate as could be imagined. The Countess looked as though she would have liked to say something, too; but she had to restrain herself, as Klink was standing right next to her, trying to get her attention.

"While we're waiting, perhaps we could discuss a few ideas for the string quartet," he said, with a little nervous giggle. "Is there anything you'd particularly like to hear? We have a very wide repertoire, so if you have any particular favourites..."

"My dear Colonel," replied the Countess, "I'm sure you know what you are capable of, far better than I do."

"Say, are you playing at this shindig too, Kommandant?" Hogan put in. "Golly, that's gonna be one heck of a show. Sorry for the language, ma'am, but there's no other word for it."

Doyle had taken his accustomed place at the piano and started playing. The girl rested her hand on his shoulder, just as if they were really old friends, as she claimed. She was quite a pretty little thing, slender of figure, with soft, gently curling brown hair drawn back from her delicate features and held in place with a wide band of ribbon. As she tilted her head to watch the pianist's hands, a few stray ringlets fell forward, almost brushing against Doyle's ear. As Hogan watched, it suddenly occurred to him that Doyle wasn't a bad-looking young man, either. The pair of them would have made for a real cute couple, except that from the look of it, Leonore was talking, rapidly and discreetly, her voice covered by the thin tinkly sound of the instrument.

Klink hadn't noticed, and it would be better to keep it that way. Besides, the longer this went on, the more likely it seemed that Doyle was going to be dragged into whatever was going on. Like it or not, Hogan had to make sure he was in it as well.

"Well, I don't like it," he announced, "but all the same, I kind of wish I could be there. You know how much I love your violin, sir."

A gleam of amusement lit up the Countess's eye. "Why shouldn't you be there? I would be more than happy to extend the invitation."

"Oh, no, ma'am. You wouldn't want me there." Hogan gave her a sideways look, part diffidence, part scarcely-hidden eagerness. At least, he hoped that was how it came off; naïveté didn't come naturally to him.

"My dear Colonel, I insist upon it. Kommandant, you must bring this man with you."

Klink's face had turned pink as he contemplated this development. "Ah – well – I don't wish to seem inflexible, but there are rules..."

"Well, actually, sir," Hogan interrupted, "those rules apply to Doyle as well. But since it's pretty obvious that you're gonna send him out to play to an audience of – well, anyway, I should probably be there to keep an eye on things. Otherwise who knows what might happen?"

"What do you imagine might happen?"

Hogan was spared having to come up with a diplomatic response to this by the return of Beckmesser. Leonore glanced at him, and stepped away from Doyle, her colour rising. She couldn't have looked more guilty if she'd been caught flirting with the enemy; which, in fact, was what she seemed to be doing.

Beckmesser had in his hand a large book, elegantly bound in green and gold, though pretty shabby. He took a moment to flick through it before holding it out to her: "It appears to be in order."

"Of course it's in order," she replied. "Timothy, will this help? It's a very good edition."

Doyle took the book from her and placed it on the stand. "Ah, yes. This seems familiar," he murmured, playing a few chords.

Leonore hung over his shoulder again: "Start again, won't you?"

This time she joined in. Her voice was good; not, perhaps, as good as her grandmother had fondly suggested, but with a sweetness and warmth of tone which made up for what it lacked in the way of projection. As for the music, Hogan didn't think much of it; he was more of a jazz fan.

Apparently Beckmesser didn't care for it, either. "Very nice," he said flatly at the end of the song. "Now, if you are ready, we must return to town. I have been away from my office for too long already."

"And I have to speak to my domestic staff about the final arrangements for the party," added the Countess. "Come along, Leonore. Gentlemen, we look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening."

Hogan gave a self-conscious chuckle. "Gosh, I hope I've got something to wear."

The girl held out her hand to Doyle, gazing up at him with wide, serious eyes. "Thank you," she murmured, so low as to hardly be audible.

He bowed his head in acknowledgement, and she turned away quickly. The Countess had already left the building, with Klink and Langenscheidt in her wake. Beckmesser paused on the threshold, looking back at Doyle. "I will be most interested to see what tomorrow will bring. Until then, I suggest you think very carefully about what you are getting involved in. You may find that Leonore expects more from her accompanist than you are able to deliver."

"I'll bear that in mind, sir," replied Doyle with his usual self-possession; and after a further searching gaze, Beckmesser took his leave, closing the door behind him.

"Okay, Doyle, start talking," said Hogan. "What does that girl really want from you, and why the hell have you gone ahead and agreed to it?"

"I didn't feel as though I could refuse, Colonel." Doyle went back to the piano and turned a few pages of the music.

"You didn't think you could refuse? Or you didn't think at all?"

Doyle shook his head, with a rueful smile. "She made a very persuasive case."

"She had scarcely three minutes. What could she possibly have said in that amount of time to talk you round? Because I think we both know – and so does Beckmesser – this isn't about music."

"Oh, but it is, sir. It's very much about music," replied Doyle earnestly. "But there is more to it. It's also about love. And that's why I couldn't say no."