‘He tried that, Joe. What we’re after is classified material. It won’t be given over a telephone with no safeguards in place. If we want it, we go and get it.’

‘What’s the place called?’

‘Frongoch — it’s a former distillery used as a prisoner-of-war camp.’

‘Why does it have to be so remote?’ said Keedy.

‘To make it more difficult for prisoners to escape,’ replied Marmion. ‘If they do get out, they find themselves in the Merionethshire wilderness.’

‘I feel as if we’re the ones in the wilderness, Harv. If we do have to go there, why didn’t Chat send us by train? Surely, it would have been quicker.’

‘You’re maligning our superintendent unfairly. The first thing he did was to check the timetables and where we’d need to change trains. London to Frongoch usually takes six hours but it would have taken half as long again this evening. Believe it or not,’ said Marmion, ‘this is probably the fastest way.’

Keedy grimaced. ‘Walking would be faster!’

‘Try to be philosophical about it, Joe. There was a time when you liked the adventure of going to strange places and there’s nowhere stranger than Frongoch.’

Marmion passed on the information given him by Claude Chatfield. Over twenty-five years earlier, a whisky distillery had been built beside a clear stream near Bala but it had been unable to compete with its Scottish rivals and went out of business. It was taken over at the start of the war and converted into an internment camp for German prisoners. Its isolation and strict regime also recommended it for use as a prison for Irish republicans who’d launched terrorist attacks in mainland Britain.

‘So Niall Quinn is being held as a political prisoner,’ said Keedy.

‘That’s right.’

‘Then it’s out of our jurisdiction. This is a case for Special Branch.’

‘The superintendent feels that we have an interest as well and he’s managed to secure permission for us to speak to the governor. They want Niall Quinn caught by whoever tracks him down first.’

‘Supposing that he’s hopped on a boat back to Ireland?’

‘Why do you keep inventing obstacles for us?’

‘Because I think we’re on a wild goose chase.’

Marmion smiled. ‘I’m very partial to the taste of wild goose.’

‘I’m serious, Harv. Okay, maybe this Irish hothead likes to set off bombs but there’s nothing to connect him with the crime that we’re investigating. I know that Sinn Fein are taking advantage of the fact that our police force has been depleted by the war,’ said Keedy, ‘but why on earth should one of its members take an interest in an obscure pub in Hayes, Middlesex?’

‘There’s something you ought to know, Joe.’

‘What is it?’

‘Niall Quinn came over from Ireland with the express purpose of blowing up a stretch of railway line near Uxbridge station. Moreover,’ Marmion went on, ‘he was arrested at his uncle’s house with bomb-making equipment in his possession.’ He raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘Now why didn’t Eamonn Quinn mention that to us?’

When the meal was over, he sent the children upstairs so that he could talk to his wife in private. Maureen and Lily were glad to run off. Their father was in a surly mood and that never boded well. Left alone with her husband, Diane Quinn had a piece of news to pass on.

‘Who told you that?’ he asked.

‘I met Sadie Radcliffe when I was out shopping.’

‘That woman is a witch.’

‘Eamonn!’ she exclaimed.

‘She said some nasty things about Maureen and I’ll always remember that. How did she hear about this Herbert Wylie?’

‘Sergeant Keedy went to see her.’

‘Do the police think that he put that bomb in the outhouse?’

‘They seem to have good reason to name him as a suspect,’ she said, ‘and all because Maureen told them about the man. It’s a feather in her cap.’

‘I’m not happy at the way they keep on at her.’

‘They’ve only been here a few times, Eamonn.’

‘They’re badgering our daughter,’ he argued, ‘and she’s not in a fit state to be questioned time and again. What if she blurts out something she shouldn’t?’

‘Maureen wouldn’t do that. She has more sense.’

‘I’ll give her another warning.’

‘No, don’t do that,’ advised Diane. ‘She’s not feeling well.’

‘What’s wrong with her?’

‘I’m not sure. All I know is that she’s been behaving in an odd way since I got back from the shops. Maureen was fine when I left. Well,’ she corrected herself, ‘as fine as she could be, that is. Later on, she was shaking all over. I thought she’d caught a chill or something and wondered if I should take her to the doctor.’

‘No,’ he decreed. ‘Doctors cost money.’

‘We can’t let her carry on like that, Eamonn.’

‘I didn’t see anything wrong with her.’

‘Well, I did and it worries me. It’s something to do with her mind.’

‘That’s why I want to keep those detectives at arm’s length,’ he said, jabbing a finger at her. ‘They always ask too many questions. If they keep on and on at her, she might forget what I told her.’

‘She won’t mention Niall, I promise you.’

‘It could be awkward for me, if she did.’

‘I don’t see why.’

‘Use your head, Di,’ he chided. ‘Niall spent the night here. If the police had found that out, I’d have been in the dock beside him. It was only because I talked my way out of the situation that I didn’t get arrested.’

‘It might have been safer if you’d turned Niall away.’

‘He’s family. I got loyalties.’

‘He frightened me,’ she admitted. ‘He’s full of such anger at the government. Why does he have to get involved in politics at all? He’s Maureen’s age. He should be thinking about settling down.’

‘Niall has a mission.’

‘I know — and it involves killing people.’

‘All he was trying to do was to cause a disruption on the railway. He was going to take great care that nobody was hurt. Niall is not a killer, Di. He’s a brave lad who sticks by his principles.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘but what terrible principles they are. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Why can’t he live a normal life like the rest of us?’

Quinn was peremptory. ‘There’s nothing wrong with what he believes in,’ he said, tapping his chest. ‘I share his convictions. Ireland has been ground down by the British for far too long. We need people like Niall. More power to his elbow!’

Diane was quietly horrified. She’d never heard him speak like that before.

The installation of the telephone at the Marmion house brought many benefits. It meant, for a start, that he could no longer be hauled out of bed in the small hours by a messenger rapping on the front door. A summons from Scotland Yard could be made by telephone. It also enabled Marmion to contact his colleagues directly from home and to arrange for a driver to pick him up. Yet it remained a novelty to Ellen and she still viewed it with mixed feelings. Its loud ring always unsettled her even when she was expecting a call. The sound caught her off guard that evening and she almost dropped the cake tin she was about to slip into the oven. Putting it on the stove, she wiped her hands on her apron and went into the hall. The ring seemed to have an accusatory note. She lifted the receiver cautiously.

‘Yes?’

‘It’s me, Ellen,’ said Marmion.

She relaxed at once. ‘Where are you?’

‘We’re on the other side of the Welsh border. I’m ringing from a police station in a town whose name I wouldn’t even try to pronounce. It has no vowels in it.’

‘Whatever are you doing in Wales?’

‘Joe is cursing the superintendent for sending us here and I’m hoping that it’s not a wasted effort. I can’t go into details, love. I just wanted to warn you that I’ll be back very, very late tonight. Don’t wait up for me.’

‘I can’t sleep properly when you’re not here.’

‘Try a bit harder. There’s a possibility that we may have to spend the night at the camp. In that case, you won’t see me until tomorrow.’