Green Girl (2 page)

“
Oh
!
”
she exclaimed, half laughing and half crying with relief.
“
You
’
re only
dogs
!
”

They were, indeed, Alsatians, a well matched brace, dog and bitch probably, even now backing away from the sound of her voice.

“
Oh, don
’
t go
...
don
’
t go
...
Come here
...
please
...
”
she coaxed, stretching out her hands to them, and because, perhaps her voice was soft and unafraid, they overcame their suspicions and came closer to investigate. The bitch still held back, but the dog, having smelt Harriet all over, suddenly put out a very long tongue and licked her face.

“
You kind, gorgeous creature!
”
she cried, hugging him close in gratitude for the attention. She felt him stiffen and quiver, but he bore with the liberty, possibly from sheer surprise. She thought she heard a faint whistle in the distance, and the dogs had certainly heard something, for they bounded away and she struggled to her feet with a little whimper of dismay, but it was out of the question to try to follow, for the fog had immediately swallowed them up.

She stood supporting herself against the rock while she gingerly tested her injured ankle. It had swollen considerably and was stiff and painful, but she thought she could have hobbled a little way had there been anyone to guide her. Even as she began to feel her way towards the direction the dogs had taken, one of them came back and began nuzzling her hand and uttering little piping cries. He could not have indicated more clearly that he was there to guide her, and she remembered the stories she had heard about this breed. They were used as guards, she remember
e
d, as guides for the blind, and trackers for the police. Police
...
trackers ... of course, that explained the dogs, thought Harriet, remembering the prison. No matter, she told herself, if he led her straight to the gaol; at least human hands would dry and feed her and give her a cell for the night.

So the painful trek began. Time to Harriet had lost all meaning. She was too tired to care any longer where the dogs might lead her, if indeed they were leading her anywhere and not simply indulging in some canine caper of their own.

Presently she found
she was limping on smooth, level turf, which was a great relief, but almost immediately she bumped straight into something hard and high and extremely solid. Her forehead connected sharply with stone and as she realised she was confronted by a wall, she saw the two dogs pop over it in one careless bound.
“
How do you suppose I
’
m to do
that?
”
she admonished them indignantly, but even in her weakened condition, early orphanage training, if a little belated, offered the practical solution. Where there was a wall with a purpose there must surely be a gate.

She soon found it by feeling her way along, but the discovery afforded no easier means of admission. The pair of great iron gates were firmly locked and however frantically she shook them they would not yield. This, of course, must be the prison, for lighted windows shone dimly in the distance. Presently the dogs came bounding back, only to turn in their tracks and race towards someone who seemed to be following with a torch.

“
Kurt! Delsa! What the devil
’
s the matter with you both!
”
a man
’
s angry voice shouted, and even in her thankfulness Harriet doubted she would be welcome here. One of the wardens, she supposed, and by the sound of him none too pleased at being disturbed during one of his off-duty periods.

“
Who is it? What do you want?
”
he called, playing his torch on the gates as he drew nearer.

“
It
’
s me
...
I
’
m lost!
”
she replied with unhelpful incoherence, and sank to the ground as her injured ankle refused to support her any longer.

There was a rattle of iron on iron as the lock snapped back and the gates swung open. Someone exclaimed
“
Good grief!
”
in no very complimentary tones.

“
I—I
’
m sorry if I
’
ve interrupted your time off,
”
Harriet said, and was aware of a tall figure standing over her, his face indistinguishable in the darkness since the light from the torch was focused on her own.

“
What an extraordinary remark to make,
”
the stranger said.
“
My time is my own as far as I
’
m aware.
”

“
Oh! Aren
’
t you a warder, then?
”

“
A
warder! Where the heck do you imagine you are—Clooney gaol?
”

“
Well, yes
...
the wall and the gates and the police dogs
...
”

“
I see. Kurt was trained to rescue work before I owned him, I believe, but neither of them are official police dogs, though they can track and guard. And why, might one ask, were you mistakenly trying to break into the clink?
”

“
I told you—I was lost,
”
she faltered, blinking up at the light.

“
Lost, were you? More likely you were trying to shin over the wall and the dogs gave the alarm,
”
he said then, with such frank disbelief that her diffidence turned to indignation.

“
If you keep the place locked up, how do you expect people to call?
”
she retorted, and was not conscious of the absurdity of such a polite social distinction; neither apparently, was he, for he replied with a certain grimness:

“
I don
’
t. The gates are locked and the walls high to keep intruders out. Are you going to remain sitting on the ground indefinitely?
”

“
I
’
m sitting on the ground because my ankle
’
s t-twisted, and I
’
m cold and
l
-lost and I can
’
t stand up any m-more,
”
she said and, to her mortification, began to cry again.

He put the torch down on the ground and knelt beside her. Strong fingers began exploring the bones of each ankle in turn with surprising gentleness, and she could smell the tweedy, tobaccoey scent of the sleeve of his jacket as it brushed her cheek.

“
You
’
re right at that—this one
’
s badly swollen—what
’
s more you
’
re soaked to the skin. How long have you been wandering about in this pestilential fog, and where do you come from?
”
he said, and there was a changed note in his voice. The first impatience was still there, but now there was a thread of concern to warm it.

“
Hours and hours,
”
she answered, weeping freely at the first hint of comfort.
“
And I
’
ve come from England.
”

“
What—today? Then for the sake of sanity what are you doing on the Plain of Clooney?
”

“
Is that where I am? I got out at a little station called Slyne, but no one met the train—and—and two hours seemed such—such a waste of time to sit on that dismal platform twiddling my thumbs.
”

“
Why on earth should you twiddle your thumbs for two hours?
”

“
Because the porter said maybe I was expected on the
next
train and—and I thought I would explore a bit to fill in the time. I—I
’
m new to Ireland, you see, and wasn
’
t to know that your Irish fogs would come down in a whoosh and catch me out, was I?
”

“
You wouldn
’
t, by the sound of you, seem to have much common sense at all,
”
he answered rather rudely, she thought.
“
However, since your foolishness appears to have landed you at my gates, I can hardly do less than offer you shelter, can I? Oh, for heaven
’
s sake, child, do stop crying! You
’
ve only the dogs to thank that you aren
’
t spending the night in the mountains.
”

“
I thought they were wolves—the dogs, I mean,
”
she said, conscious that her head was now feeling too full of cotton wool to explain anything rationally, and was surprised when she felt his hand on her forehead for a moment. He thrust the torch into her hand.

“
Here, hang on to this and don
’
t drop it. I
’
d better carry you to the house and save that ankle. I
’
m beginning to think you must be a bit light-headed,
”
he observed without enthusiasm, adding, as he stopped to lift her:
“
Just in case of possible alarms when you don
’
t arrive at your destination on schedule, where were you bound for?
”

“
Castle Clooney,
”
she answered, and he straightened up abruptly.

“
Castle Clooney?
”
he repeated on a rather odd inflection.
“
Were you expected?
”

“
Naturally. I was invited for a visit. It was a—a sort of proposal, really.
”

“
Was it, indeed?
”
There was a very odd note in his voice now, the same note which had been there when he had accused her of trying to break into his grounds, and she made a last, determined effort to assert her rights.

“
Yes, it was,
”
she said, eyeing him coldly.
“
And if you live in these parts you must surely have heard of Castle Clooney and its owner, Mr. Lonnegan? He
’
s quite a figure hereabouts, I understand.
”
That, she thought, should put him in his place.

“
Oh, yes, I
’
ve heard of them both,
”
he said at last, and strangely enough, there was now a queer little thread of amusement in his voice.
“
But shouldn
’
t I, if what you say is true, have heard some mention of your name? This is a sparsely populated stretch of country and we all know each other
’
s business.
”

“
My name is Harriet Jones, and I came into a little money which made this visit possible, so perhaps your grapevine is a bit behind with the news, since it all happened rather suddenly,
”
Harriet said, trying to sound haughty and gracious at the same time.

“
I
see. Well, Miss—er—Jones, it would seem to be advisable to get you dried out and more presentable before your prospective
fiancé
comes to claim you,
”
he said, and picked her up in one easy swoop and began carrying her towards the lighted windows of his house.

She had only a vague impression of the size of the house, wreathed as it was in mist, but the hall they entered seemed vast, its soaring roof lost in shadows, firelight and lamplight mingling to catch flickering reflections in polished wood and brass. It was not a hall at all, she thought, as she was deposited on some large couch or settle, but a cavernous chamber, for living-room seemed too homely a definition for such space and grandeur. She lay there while her unwilling host called peremptorily for whiskey to some unseen person in what was presumably the kitchen quarters, and was surprised when an old man appeared from the shadows, looking so exactly like the traditional venerable ancient retainer of a castle that she had to pinch herself to be sure she was awake.

The illusion was lost, however, as the old man observed sourly:

“
You
’
ll not be askin
’
for the craythur now, Mr. Duff, if you know what
’
s good for you, and Agnes
’
temper spoiled entoirely with the vittles kept waiting this past hour. I
’
ll tell her she can rest aisy and dish up.
”