The Empire Trilogy - J. G. Farrell [174]
“Mr Spencer took her home...perhaps an hour ago, perhaps more. More, I should think. Where is Mr Spencer?” He looked round for the cook, but of course she had disappeared.
Grasping Devlin by the arm, he dragged him deeper into the room, nearer the solitary gas jet so that he could see the man’s face. From the darkness there came a faint, distressed mewing and a dislocation of shadows. The cats had returned. For a moment he had thought that the mewing was coming from Devlin himself.
But Devlin had also begun to speak, in a high, frenzied tone which grated unbearably on the Major’s nerves. He’d known as much! He’d warned her against it...But no, she wouldn’t listen. No decent girl would show her face with those drunken devils on the loose. He’d warned her! They’d gone rampaging through Kilnalough not an hour ago and she hadn’t come home...She’d been so intent on dancing with the quality, well, that was where it had got her. He’d seen the damage they’d done...they’d overturned the milk churns so that the main street was like a white river, Finnegan’s window with a black, star-shaped hole in it...and the butcher’s shop-window lay piled under the sill like a snowdrift! And they’d been dressed up in their finery, in their claw-hammer suits like gentlemen. Ha, fine gentlemen! And he’d heard girls screaming...But she’d not come home even then...It was he, the Major, who was responsible. She had been left in his care. He was not a gentleman. Indeed, he was a swine and a cad to leave the girl on such a night...Ah, a cripple and without protection...And Mr Spencer who thought that he could buy him, Devlin, with his money and his hypocrite’s talk, what sort of a man was that? D’ye hear me?
The Major shook Devlin so violently that his last words were uttered in gasps. He fell silent then.
“Sarah will be all right with Edward. Nobody will touch her.”
“Nobody, is it?” Devlin leered. “And where is she at this minute? Tell me that. All right with him, d’you say? Sure he’s likely worse than any of them!”
“You’re speaking of a gentleman!” snapped the Major. “Mr Spencer is a man of honour.”
Abashed, Devlin fell silent. The Major peered at his face, certain that he had been drinking. For once the bank manager looked dirty and dishevelled; his hair, oiled and combed, had swung forward over his forehead, curving ridiculously upwards like a pair of horns. His trousers were secured with bicycle clips. “They’re all the same,” mused the Major. “Even when they hold responsible jobs they’re liable to go to pieces at the first sign of trouble.”
“You see, you came here on a bicycle. Heaven only knows how long you took on the way. Your daughter is probably back at home by now.”
Devlin paid no attention, his eyes had strayed into the shadows and he was mumbling incoherently. “He’s been most good...She was a cripple...the best doctors, indeed I am, sir, more grateful than I can say...Ah, it wasn’t the sort of expense I’d be able to permit myself...He did everything for her! Nothing was too much...”
“You must go home, Devlin. Sarah will be all right. I’ll answer for it.”
But abruptly Devlin burst out: “He’s been most good... He’s been a swine!”
This cry echoed emptily around the panelled walls, shrill as a girl’s scream. It was followed by a few moments of utter silence.
“You must go home, Devlin. Come along, there’s a good fellow. I’ll see you to the door.” And the Major caught hold of the bank manager’s elbow and dragged him round to face the door. As he did so he noticed a bluish light flare in Devlin’s eyes. But it was only the reflected glint from the gas mantle. By the time they reached the foyer Devlin had recovered a little and was excusing himself in a low, monotonous voice for getting the Major up at this hour, he must be tired after the ball which had been, he had heard, a famous success, the Major must forgive him this liberty given the desperate circumstances,...the last time they had met and had their most enjoyable