Pay the Devil - Jack Higgins [40]
She slid from the saddle before he could rise and moved toward him, her face solemn. “I called at Claremont and Joshua told me about the boy. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “Don’t be. I’ve seen so much of death on the grand scale during the past four years that another one more or less doesn’t seem to make a great deal of difference.”
“But this one was so unnecessary,” she said fiercely. “We both know that. If these people were given decent homes to live in instead of being treated like animals, this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.”
“I wouldn’t advise you to keep to that line of argument,” he said, “unless you want me to visit your uncle for the express purpose of putting a bullet through him. That’s exactly how I felt when I stood by that child’s bed.”
There was a slight pause and she made an obvious effort to change the subject. “Did you hear what happened in Kileen last night?”
Clay shook his head and said calmly, “No, should I have?”
“The whole of Drumore is buzzing with it. Hugh Marley of Kileen House was waylaid on his way home from our reception last night and flogged in the main street of Kileen with most of his tenants looking on.”
She filled in the details with remarkable accuracy, and when she had finished, Clay smiled. “I can’t say my heart bleeds for him. From what I heard last night, he deserves everything he got.”
“That seems to be the general opinion,” she said. “The mysterious Captain Swing has become a hero overnight.”
“Have you any idea who he might be?”
She shook her head. “I had thought of Kevin Rogan, but it could be anyone.”
“And what does your uncle think about all this?”
“He’s sent a letter by special messenger to Galway asking for the cavalry to turn out, but they’ve got better ways of spending their time than scouring the country looking for one man, especially with the country in the state it is.”
“It all seems so melodramatic,” Clay said. “What could he ever hope to achieve on his own, this Captain Swing of yours? To ride masked through the countryside by night and waving a pistol is all very fine, but how much can it help the present situation?”
She flushed and there was an edge of anger in her voice. “He’s already brought hope back to people who’d forgotten the meaning of the word. For that, at least, we should be grateful to him. Surely you can see that?”
“I’ll give you the same sort of answer I gave Shaun Rogan last night,” Clay replied. “Having just spent four years at close quarters with melodrama on the grand scale, you’ll appreciate that lost causes now have little appeal for me.”
She looked surprised. “How did you come to meet Shaun Rogan?”
He told her what had happened, and when he had finished, she bit her lip in vexation. “I knew nothing of this trouble at Cohan’s last night. Now things will be even worse between my uncle and the Rogans. What did you think of them?”
Clay shrugged. “I liked them. The boys are a trifle wild, but they’ll turn into fine men if they live that long.”
“Meaning you think they’ll all come to a bad end?” she asked.
“A rope’s end,” Clay told her, “unless they change their ways and abandon this wild scheme of taking part in a rebellion against England. It’s doomed to failure.”
“But they’ve got right on their side,” she insisted.
“Might is right,” he said. “The English invented that saying, and have spent a great deal of time and effort proving it in practice.”
For a little while, she sat with a slight frown on her face, and then she said slowly, “I want to understand you, Clay, but I know so little about you. Why did you really come to Drumore?”
“I wanted to see Claremont. It was as simple as that.”
“But what’s left of it is of no great value,” she persisted. “If it was money you were hoping for, you’ve had