Pay the Devil - Jack Higgins [13]
“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 family’s 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. “You’ll find something mighty interesting there.”
Clay followed him out into the courtyard. The stables lay on the other side, its 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. That’s one of the finest bits of horseflesh I’ve 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. “I’ll 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, savoring 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. I’ll see what I can rustle up tomorrow when I’ve got the hang of the stove.”
“We’ve dined on worse, and often,” Clay said.
The bottle of brandy he had got at Cohan’s was standing