6. Devlin Arrives at Studley Constable

As Radl predicted, Devlin had little difficulty getting to Studley Constable. Now, as he sat in Joanna Grey's cottage watching her pour two large glasses of whisky, he marvelled that this pleasant-faced, white-haired woman could be a spy.
She raised her glass. "To Eagle," she said, her eyes shining
"To Eagle," Devlin repeated.
"Now to business." Joanna Grey put down her glass. "I've fixed you up with a job working for Sir Henry Willoughby. He's coming here to see you."
"Fine," said Devlin. "What's the job?"
"Keeper of the marshes at Hobs End. It could't be more isolated. There's a small cottage there. Part of the job is to keep down the rats and boxes. Sir Henry will provide you with a gun."
"Sounds good enough. What about transport?"
"Sir Henry will also provide a motor bike."
A horn sounded outside. "That's Sir Henry now," Mrs Grey said. "Leave the talking to me. Just act very respectful and speak only when you're spoken to. He'll like that."
"So you're Devlin," Sir Henry said when he came in.
Devlin jumped to his feet and stood there twisting and untwisting his cap in two hands. "I'd like to thank you, sir." He sounded twice as Irish as usual. "Mrs Grey's told me how much you've done for me. It's more than kind of you."
"Nonsense, man." Sir Henry spoke roughly, but looked pleased. "You did your best for the old country, didn't you? Wounded in France, eh?"
"I thought I'd settle Mr Devlin in for you," Joanna Grey said. "Take him to the cottage, show him around the marsh. You're so busy, I know."
"Would you, old girl?" Sir Henry forgot himself for a moment and slipped an arm about her waist. Then he removed it hastily and said to Devlin, "Right, Call at the Grange tomorrow afternoon for a shotgun. You can collect the motor bike at the same time."
Devlin actually bowed low as Mrs Grey showed Sir Henry out. "Sir Henry fancies you, then," he said when she came back in. "And at his age?"
"Autumn romance is not completely unheard of."
"More like winter, I should have thought. But it must be very useful."
"More than that, essential," she said. "Now bring your bag and I'll take you to Hobs End."

It was raining when they came to the marsh keeper's cottage, and the marsh was hidden in mist. Devlin looked about thoughtfully. It was a strange, mysterious place. Sea, mudflats, the mist, and the occasional cry of a bird.

Joanna Grey unlocked the door and they entered a large kitchen-living room. The floor was of stone, and there was a huge open fire-place. The furniture was of the simplest.
"I was raised in a cottage exactly like this in the North of Ireland," Devlin said.
He opened his bag, took out some clothes and books, and removed the bag's false bottom. In the secret place was a Walther P38 pistol, a silenced Sten gun in three parts and a tiny S-phone radio. There were also two thousand pounds in banknotes.
"Operating money," he said. "Now, let's see where the parachutists are to drop."
They walked through the rain to the warning "Beware of Mines". Joanna Grey threw a stone and Patch, the dog, jumped through the wire to get it.
"You're sure it's safe?" Devlin asked.
"Absolutely. There isn't a single mine here."
He looked all round him. He was very cheerful.
"You were right. It's going to work, you'll see. And what a beautiful place. The thought of leaving all this must break your heart."
"Leave?" She looked at him in amazement.
"What do you mean?"
"But surely you can't stay," he said. "Not afterwards. Surely you must see that?

She looked out across the sand as if for the last time. It had never occured to her that she would have to leave. She felt cold as the wind drove the rain in hard off the sea.

At eight that evening Max Radl was still at work. He'd not felt well recently and his doctor had been horrified at his condition.
"If you carry on like this, Herr Colonel, you will kill yourself," the doctor had threatened.
As Radl took two more pain-killers, Hofer enteded, his eyes bright with excitement.
"Message from Mrs Grey, Herr Colonel. Devlin's arrived safely. He's with her now."
Radl stood up, full of fierce joy. "Karl, this calls for drink." Filling two glasses, he raised his and said, "To Liam Devlin - and to Eagle, our English enterprise."

Next afternoon Devlin collected the moter cycle and shotgun from Studley Grange. He rode back into the village past an old mill with a water-wheel that wasn't turning. There he slowed for a young girl on horseback. She wore an old blue cap and a coat three sizes too big for her.

"Good day to you, Miss," he said cheerfully.
"God save the good work."
Her eyes widened in a kind of astonishment as she urged her horse up the hill.
Devlin stopped outside a pub, the Studley Arms, and noticed a man looking angrily out of the window at him. An enormous man of thirty or so, with a thick black beard.
"And what have I done to you, son?" Devlin asked himself. The man's gaze travelled to the girl and back again. It was enough. Devlin parked his motor cycle and went inside.
There were only three people in the room. the man with the black beard, and old man sitting by thefire, and the innkeeper.
"God bless all here," Devlin announced, amusing himself by acting the stage Irishman.
He put the shotgun in its bag on a table and the innkeeper held out his hand. "I'm George Wilde. You'll be Sir Henry's new keeper." He introduced the bearded man: "Arthur Seymour. And the old man by the fire is Laker Armsby."
"Would you gentlemen join me in a drink?" Devlin suggested.
"I wouldn't say no to that," Laker Armsby said.
Seymour banged his blass down on the table. "I buys my own." He picked up the gun. "Sir Henry's really looking after you, eh? This and the motor bike. Now I wonder why you deserve that?"
"Sure, and I can only put it down to my own good looks," Devlin said.
Madness sparked in Seymour's eyes. "Don't make fun of me, little man. Don't ever do that or I'll step on you as I'd step on a worm. And remember one thing in future: when I come in, you leave." He went out, banging the door.
"Is he always like that?" asked Devlin.
"Ever since I've known him," replied Wilde.
"There was a girl outside on horseback as I came in. Does he have a special interest there?"
"He wants her," Laker Armsby said. "But she won't have any of him."
"That's Molly Prior," Wilde said. "She's not eighteen yet, but she's been running the farm near Hobs End, with her mother, since her father died last year. Laker helps a little; and Seymour does some of the heavy work for them."
"And he thinks he owns the place, I suppose?" said Devlin. He emptied his glass and set it down with some more money. "Well, I'm off. Got work to do. But have another beer on me."

Devlin took a narrow path across the marsh towards the pine trees. Filled with a new sense of freedom, he rode along at full speed - a mad risk, for one worng move and he'd be into the marsh. But that was how he felt today.

He reached the pine trees and saw Molly Prior sitting gazing out to sea, her chin on her knees. The horse was near her.
Devlin got off the motor bike and lay down beside her. "A fine day, thanks be to God."
She turned and said calmly, "What kept you?"
Devlin looked at her in astonishment. "What kept me? Why, you little....."
And then she smiled, threw back her head and laughed. Devlin too. "By God, and I'll know you till the world's end." He lit a cigarette.
"Do you sure these things?"
"No."
"Good - they'd do you even more harm than Arthur. I'd watch it there, Molly Prior."
"Arthur?" she said. "You mean Arthur Seymour? Are you crazy?"
"No, but I think he is," Devlin replied.
"How did you know my name, anyway?" she asked.
"George Wilde told me at the pub."
"I see. And Arthur - was he there?"
"Yes. He seems to look on you as his personal property."
"Then he can go to hell," she said, suddenly fierce. "I belong to no man."
He looked up at her from where he lay, and smiled. "Your nose turns up - and when you're angry, your mouth goes down at the corners."
She reddened angrily. But when he pushed himself up on one elbow and leant over her, she went very still. He kissed her briefly on the mouth and rolled away. "Now get out before I let my man passion run away with me."
She jumped up, smiling. "They told me all Irishmen were mad. Now I believe them. I'll be at church Sunday evening. Will you?"
"Do I look as if I will?"
"Yes," she said seriously. "I think you do."
And she rode away.
"Oh, you fool, Liam," Devlin said softly.
"Won't you ever learn?" As he started up the motor bike, his face was wintry.