Pay the Devil (v5) Read Online Free PDF Page A

nothing to keep him in Georgia. Four years of war had left him with only one desire—peace. It was ironic that he should have come to Ireland of all places in search of it. If the stories he had been told in Galway were true, and the events of the past hour seemed to bear them out, he was stepping straight into the heart of an area racked by every conceivable kind of outrage and murder.
    The elementary justice of Ireland’s claim to self-government was something he had learned at his father’s knee, together with harsh, bitter accounts of the treatment meted out to the unfortunate peasantry by English landlords. Later, his years as a medical student in London and Paris, and then the war, had all conspired to push the matter into a back corner of his mind as something relatively unimportant, in that it did not affect him personally.
    However much the native Irish had right on their side, highway robbery was no way in which to attract sympathizers, he reflected, thinking of the two thieves. It occurred to him for the first time that although their clothing had been rough, their horses had been superb animals and he frowned, wondering who they were and what had driven them to such a deed.
    Perhaps they were members of this Fenian Brotherhood he had heard so much about? He brushed rain from his face and dismissed the thought from his mind. Whatever happened, he intended to keep strictly neutral. At most, he would stay at Claremont a month or two. After that, Sir George Hamilton could have his way and buy the place at the price suggested in the letter Clay had found waiting for him in Galway on the previous day.
    It was dusk as they came into Drumore and rain was still falling steadily. The cottages were small and mean, with roofs of turf and thatch, and the blue smoke from their fires hung heavily in the rain. There were perhaps twenty or thirty of these dwellings scattered on either side of the narrow, unpaved street for a distance of some hundred yards.
    About halfway along the street, they came to a public house, and as Clay heard the sounds of laughter from inside, he reined in the horse and jumped to the ground.
    The building was rather more substantial than the others, with a yard to one side and stables in which several horses were standing, their flanks steaming in the damp air. The board nailed to the wall above the door carried the legend COHAN’S BAR in faded lettering.
    Joshua leaned out of the window. “What have we stopped for, Colonel?”
    Clay shook rain from his hat and replaced it on his head. “Remembering Burke’s account of the state of things at Claremont, a bottle of brandy might come in very useful before the night is out. Have you any money handy?”
    Joshua fumbled inside his left sleeve and finally extracted a leather purse, which he passed across. Clay opened it and took out a sovereign. “This should be enough to buy the place up, from the looks of it,” he said, giving Joshua his purse back. “I’ll only be a moment.”
    The door opened easily at his touch and he stepped inside, closing it behind him. The place was thick with smoke and illuminated by two oil lamps which swung from one of the blackened beams supporting the ceiling. A turf fire smoldered across the room and eight or nine men crowded round the bar, listening attentively to a tall youth of twenty or so, whose handsome and rather effeminate face was topped by a shock of yellow hair.
    For the moment, Clay remained unnoticed and he stayed with his back to the door and listened.
    “And what happened then, Dennis?” a voice demanded.
    Dennis leaned against the bar, face flushed, a glass of whiskey in one hand. “It’s for a good cause, me fine gentleman, says I, and if you’re honest with me, you’ll come to no harm. His face was the color of whey and his hand was shaking that much, he dropped his purse in the mud.”
    A young boy of fifteen or sixteen was standing beside him and he said excitedly, “Show them the watch,