There was a long pause and then he went on, “Of course, his lordship wasn’t exactly beloved either in these parts. Had a terrible temper on him, even before he lost his wife in the Spanish flu. But after that, well, it was hard to get a civil word out of him. Bite your head off if he was in a bad mood, so they say. I never met him myself. I don’t exactly hobnob with the gentry.” And he laughed at his own joke.

Again I said nothing.

“You’re not thinking of staying in the village, I hope? Both the pubs are full and I doubt you’d even find a spare bed in Kildare or Newbridge. There are even reporters over here from America. I drove some American woman to Kilhenny a week or so ago and she gave me a pound as a tip. A pound! Imagine that! Well, I thought perhaps she wasn’t familiar with our money, but I certainly wasn’t about to point out her mistake to her.”

And he chuckled again. We were driving between hedgerows that would have been leafy in the summer, but were now a mass of twisted and bare twigs. Beyond them were rain-soaked fields with puddles in them and depressed-looking cows or horses standing stoically. There were patches of bare woodland, gently rising hills, a stream gushing under a stone bridge. Now and then we passed a stone farmhouse, or a row of cottages, and then we came to a small village with a row of shops, a pub called the Harp and a church, surrounded by tombstones. Rooks flew from a yew tree, cawing. But apart from that there was no sign of life.

“This is where you’ll want to be dropped off,” Barney said.

“Where’s the castle itself?” I asked, realizing as I said it that it was still far too early to call upon anyone. “Is it far to walk?”

“Not unless you’re one of those lady reporters with high-heeled shoes,” he replied, chuckling. “About a quarter of a mile down that lane to the entrance. You’ll come to the wall around the castle grounds just after you leave the village but the gate’s a good way beyond.”

“Can you drive me there?” I asked. “I’d like to see for myself.”

“It’s your money,” he said. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

He let the clutch out and we nosed into a narrow lane. We hadn’t gone far before we came upon a high brick wall on our right. On our left was an open field with some kind of excavation work clearly in progress—mounds of earth and tarps covering some areas.

“Are they building something there?” I asked.