“No, it’s those archeologists. Apparently it’s a prehistoric site and they are digging up an ancient burial chamber or something. I can’t understand this sudden interest in digging up old remains. If it was a palace or a treasure trove of gold, well, that’s one thing. But they find an old broken piece of pottery and they act as if it’s wonderful. Waste of time and money, if you ask me.”

“How long have they been working on this site?” I asked.

“A couple of months now, it would be. Stupid time of year to start, if you want my opinion. Too cold and rainy.”

“Are they staying nearby?”

“Apparently they asked if they could stay at the castle but the American told them to go and jump in the nearest lake. I told you he wasn’t the most hospitable of men. So they’re at the O’Mara Arms in the next village. Ah, here we are now.”

I found that my heart was racing. To our right was a gateway, with ancient stone gateposts on either side, each one topped by a crumbling stone lion. A new metal gate, tipped with what looked like spears, now barred the entrance. Beyond it the driveway ran straight between borders of yew trees and in the distance I caught a glimpse of the castle itself, an imposing building of gray stone rising above the trees with a turret at one corner. It reminded me of my home at Castle Rannoch. I thought of Darcy, running through those grounds as a little boy. A happy little boy until his mother and brothers died and his father became so bitter.

“So the American man lived in the castle. Where exactly did Lord Kilhenny live after he moved out?” I asked, wanting to know where the lodge was but not wanting the taxi driver to know how much I already knew.

“I know nothing about it, me darlin’. Just what I’ve read in the papers like everyone else. So where to now?”

“I suppose you’d better drop me off in the village,” I said.

“You’re planning to stay, are you? I don’t think you’ve a chance of finding out much here or getting an interview with any of the family. But it’s not for me to say.” He turned the motor toward those tall gates then reversed. At the sound of our engine a policeman appeared from among the trees and stood watching us as we drove away.

“I see that the Garda is still keeping an eye on the place,” Barney commented.

“Guards? I thought he was a policeman.”

“The Garda are what we call our police force. I take it it’s your first time in Ireland, then.”