Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 122: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

120 W. R. BURNETT It was almost night—gloaming, you might say—with lights in the farm windows and a heavy stillness over the countryside when Michael, now riding up ahead with Trim on the thoroughbreds, guided the coach to the old ruined monastery a short distance from Ballymoure. The owls were hooting mournfully in among the great fallen moss-covered stones, and the bluish will-o’-the-wisp was flicking across the dark bog just beyond, and Bennett, the driver, and Moore, the boot, city men both, looked about them uneasily at this obvi- ously haunted spot, and crossed themselves, muttering. They drew the coach back inside the shelter of a standing wall, and then the horses were fed and watered, and finally the men sat ‘down to eat the food they’d brought with them. At a little after eight, Bennett saddled Michael’s horse, and Michael mounted and talked to Trim, who stood at the horse’s head. *“* Be saddled and ready, Trim. We'll be leaving as soon as I’m through, which shouldn’t be long. If there is a change in my plan, I'll let you know right away. I’d put the horses to the coach now, and have the boys ready.” ** Yes; sir,” said Trim. ‘“‘ We'll be ready.” Michael rode off in the darkness with a gesture of au revoir. Michael dismounted in the O’Herlihy yard and then led his horse round to the back of the house. All the lights were out—and his heart was pounding loudly. But where was Buffer, their watch- dog? He looked about him for a long time, and listened. But there wasn’t a sound in the night. Picking up a handful of pebbles, he tossed them at Catherine’s window, then he waited. Far off now, he could hear the jug-jug- jug of the frogs and the whirring of insects in the grass. And then his heart almost stopped beating as a white form appeared at the window and a blurred white face peered out into the night. Catherine! He put his face close to the window and tapped on it with his forefinger. It was Catherine, all right; he could see that lovely forehead and the dark hair in braids as before. But she shrank away in horror and waved violently for him to go away. Michael couldn’t understand this, and kept tapping gently and gesturing for her to raise the window. She seemed to be crying now, and she kept motioning for him to go away. Then Michael heard a dog barking some distance off in the direction of the cowsheds, and soon all was confusion as the front door opened and slammed, and Buffer came rushing at him across the grass. Buffer stopped suddenly and began to sniff. “‘ Buffer, Buffer, old boy,’’ called Michael. A dim gleam of candlelight showed somewhere in the O’Herlihy house, and Michael wondered with a curse if old John was going to turn out with the blunderbuss. And at that moment the window was comiclooks.comn