‘Why, indeed, Mr French,’ Sparling replied. ‘You must forgive me. I haven’t been entirely honest with you both. The truth is that I needed to know if the people of Tír Mallacht still lived as prisoners. That is why I sent you there.’

‘And what does the village have to do with you?’

‘Something happened there a long time ago and it has been the bane of my family ever since. It is the reason why its people don’t leave and the reason why they were so reluctant to speak to you.’

‘The creeper,’ Chloe whispered.

‘Correct, Ms Coogan. You have been paying attention.’

‘Please—’ Ben laughed mockingly ‘—don’t start with this superstitious shit again.’

‘I regret to inform you, Mr French,’ Sparling said impassively, ‘that this is no superstition. I can assure you that if it were, you and I would not be sitting here having this conversation.’

‘You actually think it’s real, don’t you?’ Ben asked, grinning in disbelief. ‘Jesus Christ, Alec, you’re an adult. It might be time to quit believing in fairy tales.’

There were still so many unknowns – those inexplicable happenings – niggling at the bedrock of Ben’s beliefs. But, nevertheless, he held that grin as best he could.

‘I understand you’re something of an expert in that realm, Mr French, but it’s made you sceptical. I should imagine that there are very few things you believe in anymore.’

‘I believe in facts and findings,’ he replied. ‘Maybe you can explain these to me?’

Ben produced the sunglasses from his pocket and tossed them onto the desk. He guided the doctor to examine them, which he did, holding them tenderly between thumb and index finger as though they were made of the finest crystal.

‘And what do you suggest I do with these, Mr French?’ he asked. ‘Aside from being broken, I see no reason to hide the sun’s beauty behind a lens.’

‘I found them,’ Ben said smugly, ‘in Tír Mallacht’s cemetery. You knew that others had been to that village before us, didn’t you?’

‘Of course,’ Sparling replied calmly, handing back the glasses. ‘I’m the one who sent them there.’

‘Then why should we believe a word you say now when everything you’ve told us has been a lie?’

‘Because, Mr French,’ he said with a fleck of impatience to his voice, ‘if you don’t believe what I’m about to tell you, then you won’t survive to see next week.’

Chloe’s hand reached across and touched Ben’s thigh. Cool it, Benny Boy. After a lifetime of eschewing every argument, he finally wanted to let loose.

‘Okay,’ Ben said, patting her hand as he held Sparling’s gaze, ‘I’ll listen to what you have to say, but don’t imagine for a second that I’m going to believe a word of it. At this stage, Alec, I just want my money.’