“A rare artifact,” Dooley said. “A Celtic weapon of great antiquity, owned by the O’Mara clan from time immemorial. Did your father never show it to you? It was dug from the bog and miraculously preserved. I wrote all about it in my book on bogs of Ireland. I was surprised to see it hanging carelessly on a wall in Kilhenny Castle rather than being in the museum in Dublin.”

“So it’s a valuable object, is it?” I asked.

“Priceless. Absolutely priceless,” Dooley said. “Do you know how many wooden artifacts have survived from Celtic times? Almost none.”

“Worth killing for, would you say?” Oona asked.

“If anyone actually knew of its value,” Dooley said. “Not your everyday burglar.”

“But that doesn’t add up, Aunt Oona,” Darcy said. “If you came to steal it, you’d kill and take the club with you, not leave it lying beside the body.”

“That’s true.” Oona sighed. “Dooley always did say I could never think or drive straight. Never mind. We have three good brains here. You’ll figure it out between you.”

Chapter 16

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4

AT MOUNTJOY IN IRELAND.

Feeling a little better now that I’m with Darcy again.

After that meal I slept surprisingly well. The room was warm and if any ghost came to visit during the night she did not disturb me. I awoke to find the sun shining on me, a brilliant blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds. When I looked out of the window there was Oona down below feeding chickens. It was all very rural and pleasant, hard to remember for a moment that a man’s life was at stake. From Dooley’s babbling on about ancient clubs the previous night it was clear that he probably wouldn’t be much use to us. It was up to Darcy and me to find a way to save his father. I got up, bathed and was on my way back to my bedroom when I found Dooley loitering on the landing.

“Well, hello there,” he said. “You slept well, I trust?”

“Very, thank you.”

“Jolly good,” he said. “So no mysterious visits during the night?”

“Not that I know of.”

As I headed for my room I noticed that he was following. This was awkward. One cannot slug one’s host, even if he did try anything improper. I could almost feel his breath down my neck and wondered if I could slam the bedroom door on him in time, or even if the bedroom door had a lock. Luckily I never had to find out if his intentions were dishonorable. Help came in the form of a booming voice, yelling, “Dooley, what are you doing? Are you annoying that young woman? Leave her to get dressed in peace.” And Oona appeared at the top of the stairs as Dooley gave an embarrassed little smile.