He hefted the weapon expertly in his right hand and then walked quickly to the pub door and opened it again. Laughter swelled to the ceiling as Dennis further embellished his story, and for the moment, Clay was again unobserved.
A stone whiskey bottle stood on the bar near Denniss elbow some twelve feet away. It was not a difficult shot. Clay levelled his weapon and pulled the trigger. The bottle exploded into pieces like a bomb, showering the men with whiskey and scattering them across the room.
Denniss face had turned sickly-yellow in the lamplight and his eyes were round and staring. His tongue flickered across dry lips as he frantically looked for assistance. No one moved and there was fear on every face, except for the tall man who still leaned against the wall at the end of the bar, but now his smile had gone and he held his right hand inside his coat.
Clays face was a smooth mask, inscrutable and yet in some way terrible. He moved forward and touched Dennis gently under the chin with the cold barrel of the Colt. My watch! he said tonelessly.
The youths face seemed to crumple into pieces and he produced the watch and purse and placed them on the bar top with shaking hands. God save us, sir, but it was only a joke, he said. No harm was intended. No harm at all.
For a moment longer, Clay gazed fixedly at him, and somewhere a voice said in a half-whisper, Would ye look at the Devils face on him.
Sweat stood on Denniss brow in great drops and there was utter fear in his eyes. Then Clay turned away, slipping the Colt into his pocket. The youth lurched to a nearby chair and collapsed into it, covering his face with his hands.
The publican, a large red-faced man, faced Clay across the bar and wiped his hands nervously on his soiled apron. Whats your pleasure, sir? he asked.
Presumably you deliver liquor to local residents? Clay said.
I do indeed, sir, the publican assured him. I supply Sir George Hamilton himself. He produced a dirty piece of paper and moistened a stub of pencil with his tongue. What would ye like, sir?
Clay pocketed his watch and purse and gave his order in a calm, flat voice, as if nothing had happened. And Ill take a bottle of brandy with me, he added.
The publican pushed the bottle across and Clay picked it up and started to move away. By what name, sir, and where shall I deliver it? the publican demanded.
For the first time, a smile appeared on Clays face. I was forgetting. Claremont House Colonel Clay Fitzgerald.
He turned away as an excited buzz of conversation broke out and, opening the door, went outside.
Joshua was standing by the open door of the coach and an expression of relief appeared on his face. I was watching through the window, Colonel, he said. Next to your father, youre the most cold-blooded man I ever did meet.
Clay handed him the brandy and pushed him back into the coach. Ive got my watch back, which is more than I anticipated. All I want now is a meal and a fire. Whatever else we find at Claremont House, I hope well be able to supply those things between us.
As he moved to step up to the drivers seat, the door opened behind him and closed again. Clay turned slowly, his hand sliding into his pocket. The tall man was facing him and he held up a hand and smiled. No trouble, Colonel. I only came to thank you for not killing my brother.
Clay took a quick step forward and brushed back the mans unbuttoned coat, revealing the butt of a pistol sticking out of his waistband. I noticed where you had your hand, he said wryly.
The other nodded. Sure, and I saw that youd noticed.
Clay shrugged. He was in no danger. Im not in the habit of killing boys. A whipping would be more in his line.
When his father hears of this days work, hell get that and perhaps more, the big man said. He held out his hand and Clay took it. Kevin Rogan, Colonel. I knew your uncle well.
Clays eyes widened in surprise. Would you be kin to Shaun Rogan Big Shaun, as I believe they call him?
Kevin Rogan smiled. My father why do you ask?
I met a friend of his in New York, Clay told him. A man called OHara James OHara. He gave me a package for him. If Dennis had stolen it, I wonder what your father would have said to that.
A strange smile appeared on Rogans face. Youll be doubly welcome if you visit us with news of James OHara, Colonel. Theres a track starts at the back of Claremont House. Follow it three miles over the moor and youll come to Hidden Valley. Rogan soil, every foot of it bought and paid for.
Perhaps tomorrow, Clay said. Tell your father to look for me.
He pulled himself up into the drivers seat and slapped the weary horse lightly with the reins. It started to move forward into the gathering dusk. As they turned past the tiny church at the end of the street, he glanced over his shoulder. Kevin Rogan waved at him and then opened the door and went back inside.
2
The house loomed unexpectedly out of the night, a dark mass beyond a low wall, and Clay turned the coach in between stone pillars from which the iron gates had long since disappeared.
The drive circled the house and ended in a large, walled courtyard where Clay brought the coach to a halt. It was then that he received his first surprise. Light showed through the mullioned windows, reaching out into the rain and shining upon the wet flagstones.
He jumped down to the ground and Joshua climbed out of the coach and joined him. What do you make of it, Colonel?
Clay shook his head. I couldnt say, but we can soon find out.
The door opened to his touch and he entered into what was obviously the kitchen. Beams supported the low ceiling and logs blazed in the great stone fireplace, casting shadows across the room. Clay went and warmed his hands, a slight frown on his face.
Joshua busied himself with lighting an oil lamp, one of two which stood upon the table. As it filled the room with soft light, he gave a sudden exclamation. Look at this, Colonel.
Clay moved across to the table, as Joshua removed a white linen cloth revealing a loaf of bread, eggs, a side of ham and a pitcher of milk. A small sheet of blue notepaper carried the words welcome to claremont in neat, angular handwriting.
Clay studied the message for a moment. No name, Joshua said, stating the obvious. Now wouldnt you call that a strange thing?
Clay raised the sheet of notepaper to his nostrils and inhaled the fragrance of lavender. His eyes crinkled at the corners. I thought it looked like a womans writing.
But who is she? Joshua demanded.
Clay shrugged. A Good Samaritan. Shell declare herself in her own good time.
Joshua lit the other lamp and illuminated the entire room. There were pictures on the wall, a carpet before the fireplace and comfortable chairs. There was an atmosphere of peace over everything, as if the man who lived here had been happy.
One things for sure, Joshua said. That man Burke didnt know what he was talking about.
Clay nodded. I dont think my uncles last days can have been too unpleasant.
He took one of the lamps and crossed to a door in the far corner. It opened directly onto a flight of wooden stairs and he went up them quickly, Joshua at his heels carrying the other lamp. He opened the first door he came to and went in.
Clay nodded. I dont think my uncles last days can have been too unpleasant.
He took one of the lamps and crossed to a door in the far corner. It opened directly onto a flight of wooden stairs and he went up them quickly, Joshua at his heels carrying the other lamp. He opened the first door he came to and went in.
The room was small, but comfortably furnished as a bedroom, with a carpet on the floor. The mahogany wardrobe was empty and so were the drawers in the tallboy, but the blankets on the bed had recently been aired and the sheets and pillows were clean and white.
For no reason that he could put his finger on, he knew that this had been his uncles room, and for a moment he stood in silence by the window, staring out into the night, trying to form in his mind a picture of the man he had never seen.
There was a slight cough, and he turned to find Joshua standing in the doorway. Ive checked the other rooms, Colonel. There are five, all told. The room next door is furnished with a bed made up and ready for use. The others are empty.
Then that takes care of both of us, Clay said. Anything else along the corridor?
Joshua shook his head. Just a blank wall at the end.
Clay led the way back downstairs. I should say these were once the servants quarters. Presumably they were the only rooms fit for use after the fire.
He crossed the kitchen to a door on the other side and tried to open it. It refused to budge and then he noticed the large key in the lock. He turned it quickly and the door opened without any further trouble. He was standing in a stone-flagged corridor that smelt cold and damp. Somewhere he could hear rain falling and he moved along the corridor, the lamp held out in front of him.
He mounted a short flight of stone steps and opened the door at the head of them. Immediately, he felt rain on his face and hastily placed one hand protectively over the open end of the lamp.
He was standing in what had obviously been the entrance hall of the house. A great stairway lifted into the darkness on his right and before him lay the scattered, dangerous mass of debris that had once been the roof and upper storey.
For a moment, the irony of the situation struck him. That seven hundred years of his familys turbulent history should come to this and that he, the last of his name and born in an alien land, should stand among the ruins of a great house. A sudden gust of wind caused his lamp to flicker wildly and he turned back down the steps, closing the door behind him.
As he went back into the kitchen, Joshua came in from the courtyard, a bag in each hand. He placed them carefully on the floor and straightened. I think you ought to have a look in the stables, Colonel, he said. Youll find something mighty interesting there.
Clay followed him out into the courtyard. The stables lay on the other side, their great doors standing open to the night, and he saw that Joshua had taken the coach and horse into shelter. A lantern hung from a nail and Joshua lifted it down. Over here, Colonel.
There was a soft whinny from the darkness, and when Joshua raised the lantern, Clay saw a horse standing in one of the stalls. It was a beautiful animal, a black mare with a coat like satin. A thrill of conscious pleasure went through him as he gently ran his hand across its hindquarters.
Another gift from our Good Samaritan? Joshua said.
Clay smiled. She can make this kind of gift any time she wants. Thats one of the finest bits of horseflesh Ive ever seen.
Things get more surprising round here minute by minute, Joshua said.
He replaced the lantern on its nail and started to unhitch the coach horse. Clay moved forward quickly. Ill see to that, he said. You get a meal started.
As you say, Colonel. Joshua pulled two more pieces of baggage out of the coach and walked across the courtyard to the house.
Clay took off his coat and unhitched the coach horse. He found an old blanket and gave the weary animal a rubdown. Afterwards, he led it into one of the stalls and gave it some of the oats and hay with which the black mare had been plentifully supplied.
The rain seemed to be slackening a little and he stood in the entrance and gazed out into the courtyard, breathing deeply, savouring the freshness. He was tired and his stomach craved food, but there was still something to be done. He pulled the leather travelling trunk out of the coach, hoisted it onto his broad shoulders and trudged across the courtyard through the rain.
He took the trunk straight up to his room. When he went downstairs again, a smell of cooking filled his nostrils. Joshua was bending over the fire, an iron frying pan in one hand.
Smells good, whatever it is, Clay said.
The man smiled cheerfully. Ham and eggs and fried bread, Colonel. Ill see what I can rustle up tomorrow when Ive got the hang of the stove.
Weve dined on worse, and often, Clay said.
The bottle of brandy he had got at Cohans was standing on the table, which Joshua had made ready for the meal. Clay poured a generous measure into one of the cups and carried it to the fire.
He subsided into a chair with a groan of pleasure, booted legs outstretched. Best part of the day, Colonel. Joshua grinned. Thats what you always used to say on campaign.
Clay swallowed some of the brandy. An expression of astonishment appeared on his face and he laughed and drank some more. Something wrong, Colonel? Joshua asked.
Clay shook his head. Things grow even more mysterious, thats all. This is some of the finest French brandy Ive ever tasted. Now where would a broken-down little country publican like Cohan get such stuff?
I wouldnt know, Colonel, Joshua said, as he ladled hot food onto two plates. But one things for sure. Ireland is no fit place for a gentleman.
And Georgia is, I suppose? Clay grinned as he took his place at the table. I dont think the Irish would appreciate your sentiments. In fact if the crowd in that pub was a fair sample of the locals, Id keep your observations to yourself if I were you. They reminded me strongly of Hoods Texans.
Joshua shuddered and sat down in the opposite chair. Nobody on earth could resemble Hoods Texans, Colonel, unless the Devil went to work in two places at the same time.
They ate in silence, each concentrating on the heaped plate in front of him. After a while, Clay sat back with a sigh and reached for the brandy bottle. Joshua, I always did say that where food is concerned, youre a miracle worker.
Joshua took the praise as his just reward. True, Colonel, only it was your father who said it first. Thats why he hung on to me when everything else had to go in those bad years before the war, after your mother died. He always said hed have been lost without me.
And so would I, Clay assured him.
Joshua didnt appear to consider the statement needed any contradiction, and busied himself with clearing the table as Clay went back to his seat by the fire and relaxed.
He sipped his brandy and stared into the flames, more tired than he had been in a long time. Gradually, his eyes closed and his head nodded forward. He took a deep breath, forced himself to his feet and yawned. Its been a long day. I think Ill have an early night. Therell be a lot to do tomorrow.
Ill bring your coffee at seven, Joshua told him, and Clay nodded, picked up one of the lamps and opened the door to the staircase.