two hours since Cribb and Devlin had lowered the box by ropes from the rowing-boat into the water. They had lodged it as closely as possible to the base of one of the arched supports. It had seemed to come to rest gently. Nothing inside the box should have been disturbed. They had not remained long in the vicinity after lowering the bomb, even so.
Cribb took out a silver watch Devlin had loaned him. Possibly it had belonged to Malone. It registered two minutes to eight. He flicked his tongue tensely across his upper lip and stared across the water at the gazebo. It looked depressingly solid in construction, its reflection giving the illusion that there was as much brickwork below the surface as above. Two crows were perched on the battlements. How humiliating if the explosion just dislodged a few bricks and failed to disturb the birds. .
Feeling not at all like Mephistopheles, he started walking under cover of the trees towards the waiting group, ready to appear on cue. Those two minutes must have ticked away by now. At least, he wryly observed, the thing had not gone off
He was near enough now to hear the murmur of conversation, and most of it seemed to be coming from the larger of the two emissaries, punctuated with the kind of laughter one hears filling the intervals at firework displays, when the set pieces are slow in igniting. The other, standing apart, had his watch in his hand and was concentrating all his attention on the gazebo.
Cribb had gone as close to the others as he could without revealing his presence. He stood behind a tree, took out the watch and lifted the cover. Three minutes past the hour. They were not going to wait much longer and nor was he. If he made a dash to the house now, he should be able to get to the kitchen and release Thackeray, and the two of them might get clear before the alarm was raised.
Even as he was reaching a decision, the leaves above him rustled and a boom of reassuring volume shattered the calm of the evening. Before doing anything else, he put back the hands of the watch to precisely eight o’clock.
The crows were two small specks in the sky when he turned round, but the gazebo was still disintegrating. It was collapsing into the water by layers with extraordinary slowness, like snow slipping off a roof. More than half was gone already and the lake’s surface was fretted with waves radiating from the point of disturbance. The roof, deprived of support, slipped into the void, bringing more masonry with it and hitting the water with an impact that sent droplets showering down over much of the lake. When everything went still again, one section of one wall remained.
He walked towards the group. Rossanna, with arms outspread, seemed ready to embrace him, but took his hands instead and drew him towards the visitors. ‘And here, gentlemen, is the genius behind what we have just witnessed. Mr Sargent, I want to introduce you to Mr Millar.’
The larger of the emissaries offered a broad hand to Cribb. ‘You seem to have a way with the little cakes, Sargent. It was neatly done.’
‘Mr Carse,’ said Rossanna.
The small man remained where he was, holding his watch. ‘Three and a half minutes late,’ he said in an expressionless voice. ‘I do not regard that as genius.’
Cribb’s response was immediate. ‘Late? It was perfectly on time. I checked it on the watch I was given.’ He took it out. ‘Why, it isn’t three minutes past
‘Then there would appear to be an error in the watch,’ said Carse in the same flat voice. ‘I suppose we cannot blame you for that if you set the bomb mechanism from the same instrument.’
‘He did,’ insisted Rossanna. ‘It was done in my presence.’
‘In future,’ said Carse, ‘We shall ensure that all timepieces are accurately synchronised. I am sure your father concurs. Shall we return to the house, or are we to be treated to some other proof of Mr Sargent’s genius?’
‘Father thought that this would be sufficient,’ said Rossanna. ‘He is personally convinced of Mr Sargent’s professional ability and he has made the most comprehensive inquiries into his background. He was hoping that we could enrol him as a member of the Clan this evening. Are you prepared to accept him, Mr Carse?’
‘Since Malone is dead, madam, and your father incapacitated, we have no choice. Time is short. Bring your prodigy to the meeting and we shall conduct the usual ceremony.’
As Carse strode away along the path in the direction of the house, with Millar not far behind in company with Devlin, Rossanna hung back to speak to Cribb. ‘There is something I must tell you. Pretend you are helping me with the wheel-chair. This man Carse-’
‘The leprechaun?’
‘Do not underestimate him. He has been exceedingly difficult over the matter of Malone.’
‘Nasty little cove.’
‘He was incensed at what we had to tell him. He was ready to cancel everything-a year’s work-until we told him about you. Even then, he was most disbelieving about your ability to stand in for Malone.’
‘I rather formed that impression too,’ said Cribb.
‘We had to paint you in glowing colours. Upon one point, in particular I bent the truth a little.’
‘What was that?’
‘The senior members of the Clan are most particular about one of the rules regarding descent. Everyone presented for membership has to have the Irish blood, you see.’
‘Now that’s a problem,’ said Cribb.
‘It might have been. I told them your mother was born in Skibbereen and that silenced them.’
‘It’s silenced me,’ said Cribb. ‘Where the devil is it?’
‘In County Cork. It’s one of the southernmost towns in Ireland. Carse comes from Dublin, so it’s unlikely that he knows Skibbereen. You don’t mind the deception, do you?’
‘I’ll square it with my conscience somehow. One needs to bend the truth occasionally in my profession.’
She smiled her thanks. ‘That was a darling of a demolition, Mr Sargent. We’ll not waste your second bomb on a folly, I promise you. It’ll be a deadly serious thing next time. If it does its work as well as the first, you’ll be the toast of all Ireland. There should be no worry, for the machines are identical, are they not?’
‘Like two peas from the same pod, Rossanna,’ said Cribb, speaking the truth.
At the house, he was instructed to wait in the hall while certain preliminaries took place in the drawing room. After some fifteen minutes, Rossanna came out with a black mask, like the one her father wore, except that it had no eye-spaces. ‘Do I have to wear that?’ he asked.
‘It’s part of the ritual,’ she explained, as she tied it firmly in place. ‘But you will be perfectly safe. The ballot for your membership has taken place and you got no black balls. You will be among friends. I shall hold your arm to guide you.’ She gave it a reassuring squeeze and led him forward.
He felt his feet leave the tiles and move on to carpet. The door closed behind him. A deep voice that he recognised as Millar’s spoke close in front of his face. ‘What is your name, friend?’
‘Sargent.’ There was no response to this, so he shrewdly added, ‘Michael Sargent.’
‘Very good. Tell us the names of your father and mother.’
He felt a slight pressure from Rossanna. ‘John Sargent and Molly O’Doherty.’ He paused for effect. ‘Of Skibbereen, in County Cork.’
Someone nearby grunted in satisfaction.
‘My friend,’ said Millar over a rustle of paper, suggesting that he was reading from a text, ‘you have sought affiliation with us animated by love, duty and patriotism.’
‘Not to say the Skirmishing Fund,’ murmured a voice in the background, possibly Devlin’s.
‘Stow your jaw, mister!’ said Millar, before continuing, in priestlike tones, ‘We have deemed you worthy of our confidence and our friendship. You are now within these secret walls. Those who surround you have all taken the obligations of our Order, and are endeavouring to fulfil its duties. These duties must be cheerfully complied with, or not at all undertaken. We are Irishmen banded together for the purpose of freeing Ireland and elevating the position of the Irish race. The lamp of the bitter past plainly points our path, and we believe that the first step on the road to freedom is secrecy. Destitute of secrecy, defeat will again cloud our brightest hopes; and, believing this, we shall hesitate at no sacrifice to maintain it.’
Cribb felt a hand fasten on his shoulder.
‘Be prepared, then, to cast aside with us every thought that may impede the growth of this holy feeling among Irishmen; for, once a member of this Order, you must stand by its watchwords of Secrecy, Obedience and Love. With this explanation, I ask you are you willing to proceed?’
