and took up his position in the shelter of some bushes.
The rain continued to fall steadily during the hours that he waited, but finally the brake reappeared and he drew back into the bushes until the sound of its engine faded into the distance.
He left his car where it was and moved back through the trees towards the farm. There was no sign of life anywhere and he Stood at the edge of the yard examining the windows for a moment, then crossed to the door.
It opened to his touch and he walked softly along the whitewashed passage. The living room door was slightly ajar and someone coughed. He pushed the door open and stepped in.
Colum O’More was sitting by the fire in the act of applying a match to the bowl of his pipe. He stared at Soames as if he had seen a ghost and a quick anger kindled in his eyes.
‘What the devil are you doing here?’
‘I thought it was time we had a little chat, Mr. O’More.’
Soames moved forward, shook the rain from his hat and placed it carefully on the table.
‘I’ve nothing to say to you/ O’More said. ‘You’ve been paid for what you’ve done, well paid and there’s an end to it.’
‘I have a friend in Dublin, Mr. O’More, did you know that?’ Soames held his hands out to the fire. ‘He’s been making a few enquiries for me. Among the right people, you understand.’ He smiled gently. ‘The headquarters of your movement in Dublin, or what’s left of it, don’t seem to have heard from you in five years or moie.’ He shook his head reprovingly. ‘You’ve not been telling the truth, Mr. O’More. I wonder what Sean Rogan would say to that?’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A COLD wind slanting across the square drove rain against the window with the force of lead shot as Vanbrugh stared morosely into the street. Already half-convinced that he was wrong, an abortive morning spent visiting every hotel in Kendal without finding a trace of eithei Soames or Pope, hadn’t improved his temper. He wondered impatiently what was keeping Dwyer.
There was a knock on the door and a young constable entered with a cup of tea. As he turned to leave, Dwyer came in.
‘You can make that two.’ He shook rain from his hat and unbuttoned his coat. ‘What a climate.’
‘Any luck?’ Vanbrugh demanded.
Dwyer shook his head. ‘We’ve visited every guest-house and boarding house in Kendal without a trace. I’ve told the men to get some lunch and report back in an hour.’
‘I didn’t do any better at the hotels.’
The young constable brought in another cup of tea and Dwyer sipped it gratefully. ‘Of course, there must be a lot of people in a place like this who take in paying guests, especially in the season.’
‘Too many,’ Vanbrugh said. ‘It would take a house-to-house search to find them all. We simply haven’t the men or the time.’
‘It would explain the bit about this bloke Grant’s address being care-of-someone else.’
‘I’ve been in touch with the local Postmaster about that,’ Vanbrugh said. ‘I know it’s a long shot that a postman might remember something like that. I know from past experience that most of these fellows get to know their round very well.’
‘Any joy?’
no
‘Not yet. Most of the men are still due-in from the lunchtime delivery. He’s going to see them all before they go off duty and give me a ring.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Two o’clock. That gives us half an hour.’
‘There’s a pub just round the corner,’ Dwyer said. ‘We could probably get some sandwiches or a pork pie or something.’
‘Something like a pint, you mean?’
‘It’s been a hard morning, sir.’
Vanbrugh grinned and took down his coat from behind the door. ‘Well, if you’re paying, Sergeant….’
Looking over Hannah’s shoulders through the flooded windscreen, Rogan could see Paddy Costello several hundred yards ahead, standing at the side of the road. The small man clambered into the passenger seat and closed the door with a curse.
‘Christ Jesus, but I’m soaked to the bloody skin. It cuts into you like razor blades, that stuff.’