A Winter of Spies Read Online Free PDF Page B

Breen anything, but still she was careful. She didn’t want to offend the old couple.
    â€˜They stopped our Josie that day,’ she said now. ‘And Mick, and their friend.’
    â€˜My husband told me,’ Mrs Breen said. ‘He stopped to see if he could help. The Black and Tans asked him to vouch for them.’
    â€˜I suppose the Tans were nervous. Someone shot at them.’ She tried to keep the gloating from her voice when she said it.
    â€˜I heard the shooting,’ Mrs Breen said. ‘I thought I’d taken a turn, that I was hearing the shooting from the Rising all over again. Nine o’clock on a Sunday morning, too – even the Lord’s Day isn’t safe from their wars.’
    A horsedrawn cart was coming slowly down the road. Sarah looked at it curiously. ‘There’s someone’s luggage,’ she said.
    The cart was empty except for a pile of trunks and cases. The driver, a little man with a short pipe in his mouth, tipped his hat to them from his high box.
    â€˜Am I right for Ryans’?’ he asked them. The old horse pulling the cart stopped walking.
    Sarah jumped up and ran to the hedge. She pointed to the house next door. ‘That’s Ryans’ there,’ she said. ‘Is it someone for the rooms?’
    The driver shrugged. ‘The divil a bit of me knows anything about that,’ he said. ‘They tells me nothing. I’m to bring these bags here for a Mr Moore.’
    The furnished rooms the Ryans kept on their top floor had been empty for a month. Sarah and Josie had been curious to see who might move in.
    â€˜Is Mr Moore old?’ she asked the driver. ‘Have he a family?’
    The man took the pipe out of his mouth and spat down on the road. He gave a little cackle. He had a lazy eye, Sarah noticed. His right eye was looking at her, but the left one looked off to the side.
    â€˜Boys a man,’ he said, ‘but you’re a curious class of a child. How would I know if he have a family? He might have a troop of elephants for all I know. Or a troop of dancing girls for that matter.’
    Mrs Breen came down the garden. She heard the reference to dancing girls and frowned.
    â€˜That house next door is Ryans’, my good man,’ she said in her best voice. ‘The young lady has told you so.’
    The driver looked at the house next door. ‘I suppose,’ he said, ‘the steps is not too bad. I done worse lifting anyhow .’ He tipped his hat to them again. ‘Thanking you, ladies ,’ he said, and slapped the reins softly on the back of the big horse. ‘Get up there, Mags,’ he said.
    The horse moved slowly on. Mrs Breen whispered a warning to Sarah about being over-familiar with strangers . They might be drunk or anything. One never knew. She hadn’t finished when a motor car came down the road at speed. It pulled up behind the cart at Ryans’ gate.
    â€˜A motor car outside Ryans’,’ Sarah said. ‘It must be Mr Moore.’
    â€˜A motor car driving at a reckless speed,’ Mrs Breen said. ‘He must have been travelling at twenty miles an hour! Where are our brave auxiliary policemen now?’
    But Sarah was goggling with open curiosity at the car. Two men got out and talked to the cart driver. They were handsome enough, but a little old. The motor car was nice, though. Sarah had never been in a car: to take a long drive in one was an ambition of hers. That and helping to free Ireland.
    The cart driver was standing in the bed of the cart now, holding up a black valise. The younger of the men from the car was gesturing to him. He was a pale man withblack hair. He wore a broadbrimmed black hat and flourished a cane.
    â€˜That’s the one. I’ll take that,’ Sarah heard him say. He had an Irish accent.
    When Sarah looked at the other newcomer she saw that he was looking back at her. Mrs Breen was saying something to her about not being nosy.