police say) made quite an ingenious escape from the Dublin guards a week or two ago. On the sixteenth of July, if I remember correctly. Where would you have been on that day, Mr. Sherwood?”
“In Dublin, as a matter of fact.”
“A strange coincidence, I must say! And now would you be so good as to tell me why you happen to be in Ireland at all.”
“Oh, there’s no mystery about that. Our people in London are very worried by the high percentage of dud stuff that’s been coming through. I was simply sent over to help separate the wheat from the tares.”
He was now very calm again, his voice purring like a huge cat. “Our meeting is indeed a fortunate one from your point of view, Mr. Sherwood, for I fear you would have found little employment for your talents if a kindly providence had not brought you to my door yesterday evening.”
“I was beginning to realize that, sir. I’d be glad to hear what terms you have to offer!”
He laughed in a melodious, insincere fashion. “My dear young fellow, need I remind you that a guard was killed during that little operation of yours last month? And you ask me for terms—terms!”
“I cannot imagine there was anything very unusual in that, nor can I imagine that the rest of your men are content to work for nothing.”
“What a very mercenary young man it is. Ah well, we shall see what we shall see. Quite a number of documents need to be looked over. When they are finished and I have studied your reports, then perhaps we can reopen this conversation.”
Houseman had said nothing throughout this interchange. From his sour expression I could see he had no liking for me as an ally. He started to protest, but the canon silenced him with a gesture.
Many features of the situation were far from being reassuring. But at least the scoundrels had some need of me. And I had a promising idea stirring in the back of my mind. Even so, I was not prepared for the cunning of the canon.
After breakfast they bundled me into a car, not a Chevrolet. Houseman drove, with the canon beside him. I sat in the back with Tiny. No attempt was made to conceal the route from me. Near Galbally we turned off on a mountain road, unpaved and of a width not much greater than the car itself. The road wound upward in an easterly direction, the higher slopes of Galtymore lying two miles or so to the south.
We had climbed perhaps a thousand feet by the time we reached our destination, which I had better describe in a little detail. There was a cluster of buildings, the main one a rough-hewn, single-story stone cottage, well built to resist the challenge of any storm. I soon discovered it to have three small, boxlike bedrooms, together with two rooms each about fifteen feet square. One served as a parlor, the other as a kitchen. The parlor faced to the north, away from the high mountain. One could look down a long stretch of bog toward the head streams of the river Aherlow. At the present season of the year this northern aspect was tolerable, but in winter it must have been an appallingly gloomy spot.
There were two main outbuildings, one a garage, the other a square concrete affair with a small high window—the only guess I could make as to its function was most unpleasant to say the least. It was a guess that subsequently turned out to be correct. The conveniences of the establishment were situated to one side of the garage, about thirty yards from the cottage.
The canon led the way into the cottage and to the sitting room. Houseman followed, carrying two large brief cases, which he proceeded to unpack. A very considerable pile of papers was disgorged. The canon indicated them with a gesture.
“This you will agree, Mr. Sherwood, is a place where you can have absolute quiet, where you will be free from all unpleasant disturbances. Tiny will see that everything is in order and will prepare your meals.”
“We still have not settled the terms of my employment, sir. This is an awful lot of work to
“In Dublin, as a matter of fact.”
“A strange coincidence, I must say! And now would you be so good as to tell me why you happen to be in Ireland at all.”
“Oh, there’s no mystery about that. Our people in London are very worried by the high percentage of dud stuff that’s been coming through. I was simply sent over to help separate the wheat from the tares.”
He was now very calm again, his voice purring like a huge cat. “Our meeting is indeed a fortunate one from your point of view, Mr. Sherwood, for I fear you would have found little employment for your talents if a kindly providence had not brought you to my door yesterday evening.”
“I was beginning to realize that, sir. I’d be glad to hear what terms you have to offer!”
He laughed in a melodious, insincere fashion. “My dear young fellow, need I remind you that a guard was killed during that little operation of yours last month? And you ask me for terms—terms!”
“I cannot imagine there was anything very unusual in that, nor can I imagine that the rest of your men are content to work for nothing.”
“What a very mercenary young man it is. Ah well, we shall see what we shall see. Quite a number of documents need to be looked over. When they are finished and I have studied your reports, then perhaps we can reopen this conversation.”
Houseman had said nothing throughout this interchange. From his sour expression I could see he had no liking for me as an ally. He started to protest, but the canon silenced him with a gesture.
Many features of the situation were far from being reassuring. But at least the scoundrels had some need of me. And I had a promising idea stirring in the back of my mind. Even so, I was not prepared for the cunning of the canon.
After breakfast they bundled me into a car, not a Chevrolet. Houseman drove, with the canon beside him. I sat in the back with Tiny. No attempt was made to conceal the route from me. Near Galbally we turned off on a mountain road, unpaved and of a width not much greater than the car itself. The road wound upward in an easterly direction, the higher slopes of Galtymore lying two miles or so to the south.
We had climbed perhaps a thousand feet by the time we reached our destination, which I had better describe in a little detail. There was a cluster of buildings, the main one a rough-hewn, single-story stone cottage, well built to resist the challenge of any storm. I soon discovered it to have three small, boxlike bedrooms, together with two rooms each about fifteen feet square. One served as a parlor, the other as a kitchen. The parlor faced to the north, away from the high mountain. One could look down a long stretch of bog toward the head streams of the river Aherlow. At the present season of the year this northern aspect was tolerable, but in winter it must have been an appallingly gloomy spot.
There were two main outbuildings, one a garage, the other a square concrete affair with a small high window—the only guess I could make as to its function was most unpleasant to say the least. It was a guess that subsequently turned out to be correct. The conveniences of the establishment were situated to one side of the garage, about thirty yards from the cottage.
The canon led the way into the cottage and to the sitting room. Houseman followed, carrying two large brief cases, which he proceeded to unpack. A very considerable pile of papers was disgorged. The canon indicated them with a gesture.
“This you will agree, Mr. Sherwood, is a place where you can have absolute quiet, where you will be free from all unpleasant disturbances. Tiny will see that everything is in order and will prepare your meals.”
“We still have not settled the terms of my employment, sir. This is an awful lot of work to
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