“That’s right,” I said. I glanced back and saw the policeman still staring after us. It appeared that getting in to find Darcy would not be easy. There were a few signs of life as we came back into the village street. A milk cart, drawn by a tired old horse, was delivering bottles to doorsteps. The newsagent was opening up, setting out morning papers. The greengrocer was arranging cabbages under a canopy from which rain dripped. Barney stopped the taxi outside the Harp.

“I’ll leave you here, then. They have a telephone at the pub. They can get a message to me if you want to be picked up later.”

“Thank you.” I climbed out, retrieved my suitcase and paid him. He asked what seemed rather a large amount but I suspected his rates had shot up in the last week when reporters paid without quibbling. The taxi drove off and I stood alone in the village of Kilhenny, not sure what I should do next. Rain dripped off the brim of my hat. I looked around, wondering how I could ask about finding the lodge without word going all over the village, and whether I would have to walk back that half mile lugging my suitcase. And it occurred to me that Darcy might not even be at the lodge. If his father was still being held in prison somewhere, maybe even in Dublin, would he not want to be close by? I could see now that this quest of mine had not been well thought-out. I should have stayed in Dublin and asked my first questions there rather than rushing into the middle of nowhere.

But I was here now and unless I could persuade Barney to come back for me, I was stuck here. The frosted glass door of the pub was firmly locked but as I was standing there the milkman came toward me with two bottles. He nodded a good morning to me then went around the side of the pub to put the bottles outside another door.

“Were you waiting for someone, miss?” he asked as he returned.

“No, I just got here,” I said. “And I’m not sure what to do next.”

He grinned. “Another of those lady reporters, I suppose. Well, you’re out of luck if you’re looking for a room here. There’s already two of them staying at the pub. And Mrs. O’Shea has taken in two more as paying guests. I don’t know what they think they are going to report on. The trial will be in Dublin, won’t it?”

I nodded, then took a deep breath. “Lord Kilhenny’s son. I understand he came back here to be with his father.”

“He might have done.”

“And Lord Kilhenny was living at the lodge when this happened?”