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Meehan sighed. 'You've been a naughty boy again, Fallon. I told you when I left you this morning to come back here and keep under cover and what did you do at the first opportunity? Gave poor old Varley the slip again and that isn't nice because he knows how annoyed I get and he has a weak heart.'

'Make your point.'

'All right. You went to see that bloody priest again.'

'Like hell he did,' Billy put in from the doorway. 'He was with that da Costa bird in the churchyard.'

'The blind girl?' Meehan said.

'That's right. She kissed him.'

Meehan shook his head sorrowfully. 'Leading the poor girl on like that and you leaving the country after tomorrow.'

'She's a right whore,' Billy said viciously. 'Undressing at the bloody window, she was. Anybody could have seen her.'

'That's hardly likely,' Fallon said. 'Not with a twenty-foot wall round the churchyard. I thought I told you to stay away from there.'

'What's wrong?' Billy jeered. 'Frightened I'll queer your pitch? Want to keep it all for yourself?'

Fallon stood up slowly and the look on his face would have frightened the Devil himself. 'Go near that girl again, harm her in any way, and I'll kill you,' he said simply and his voice was the merest whisper.

Jack Meehan turned and slapped his brother across the face backhanded. 'You randy little pig,' he said. 'Sex, that's all you can think about. As if I don't have enough troubles. Go on, get out of it!'

Billy got the door open and glared at Fallon, his face white with passion. 'You wait, you bastard. I'll fix you, you see if I don't. You and your posh bird.'

'I said get out of it!' Meehan roared and Billy did just that, slamming the door behind him.

Meehan turned to Fallon, 'I'll see he doesn't step out of line, don't you worry.'

Fallon put a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a taper from the kitchen fire. 'And you?' he said. 'Who keeps you in line?'

Meehan laughed delightedly. 'Nothing ever throws you, does it? I mean, when Miller walked into church yesterday and found you talking to the priest, I was worried, I can tell you. But when you sat down at that organ.' He shook his head and chuckled. 'That was truly beautiful.'

There was a slight frown on Fallon's face. 'You were there?'

'Oh yes, I was there all right.' Meehan lit a cigarette. 'There's one thing I don't understand.'

'And what would that be?'

'You could have put a bullet in my head last night instead of into that mirror. Why didn't you? I mean, if da Costa is so important to you and you think I'm some sort of threat to him, it would have been the logical thing to do.'

'And what would have happened to my passport and passage on that boat out of Hull Sunday night?'

Meehan chuckled. 'You don't miss a trick, do you? We're a lot alike, Fallon, you and me.'

'I'd rather be the Devil himself,' Fallon told him with deep conviction.

Meehan's face darkened. 'Coming the superior bit again, are we? My life for Ireland. The gallant rebel, gun in hand?' There was anger in his voice now. 'Don't give me that crap, Fallon. You enjoyed it for its own sake, running around in a trenchcoat with a gun in your pocket like something out of an old movie. You enjoyed the killing. Shall I tell you how I know? Because you're too bloody good at it not to have done.'

Fallon sat there staring at him, his face very white, and then, by some mysterious alchemy, the Ceska was in his hand.

Meehan laughed harshly. 'You need me, Fallon, remember? Without me there's no passport and no passage out of Hull Sunday so put it away like a good boy.'

He walked to the door and opened it. Fallon shifted his aim slightly, following him, and Meehan turned to face him. 'All right then, let's see you pull that trigger.'

Fallon held the gun steady. Meehan stood there waiting, hands in the pockets of his overcoat. After a while he turned slowly and went out, closing the door behind him.

For a moment or so longer Fallon held the Ceska out in front of him, staring into space, and then, very slowly, he lowered it, resting