Purefoy was hoping that what he was seeing was not what he was seeing. He saw Burgess see him, see that he might be being seen. He saw Burgess, carefully casual, not break off from the conversation. He saw Dowland move away. Five minutes later, he saw Dowland heading for the latrines. Ten minutes after that, a figure approached them from the far side, against the evening light.Purefoy hoped that it was not Burgess.It was.What am I meant to do about this?No question: report them both.And then what? Reporting these things puts the men at risk of death by firing squad. They’re at risk of death every day and night anyway. Hun bullet; British bullet. So what?But come on, there’s no proof.That’s because you’ve avoided looking for proof. Or looking at it, when it was in front of your nose.No, you can’t leap to conclusions on something like this.No, you ignored it because you didn’t want to face it. You ignored it because the moral dilemma it presented was unanswerable.How very rational you’re being today, Riley.
What do You think about My Dear I Wanted To Tell You?
