He smiled at her.
Her eyes filled with tears which spilled over down her cheeks.
He put his hand on her shoulder very gently. “I know it’s hard,” he said. “But you did the only thing you could.”
She nodded and sniffed.
He patted her, wishing he could do more, and went out to find Tellman.
Charlotte looked at him inquiringly.
“I think we have to arrest Finn Hennessey,” he said almost under his breath. “I wish I didn’t.”
Her face crumpled with sorrow, and she turned to the bathroom to go immediately to Gracie.
“Come on.” Pitt strode ahead along the corridor, leaving Tellman to follow behind, torn whether to stay or go, hating every step of it.
At the top of the main stairs they found Wheeler looking surprisingly cheerful. For a man whose employer had just been murdered and who therefore was about to be without a position, his general air of well-being was extraordinary. He seemed to glow with some inner secret which buoyed him up and filled him with joy.
“Do you know where Hennessey is?” Pitt asked him.
“Yes sir,” Wheeler said instantly. “He is in the stable yard talking to one of the grooms. Seems to have made friends. Poor young man has nothing much to do now that Mr. McGinley is dead.”
“Rather like yourself,” Pitt observed.
Wheeler looked faintly surprised. “Why yes, I suppose it is.” He did not seem greatly perturbed by it, and having ascertained that that was all he could do to be of assistance, he continued on his way.
“What’s wrong with him?” Tellman demanded angrily, catching up with Pitt to walk side by side with him along the passageway towards the side door. “He looks like he ate the cream instead of a man without a job.”
“I don’t know,” Pitt replied. “I would guess it has something to do with Doll Evans. I hope so.” He shot Tellman a dazzling smile, then went out of the door and strode across the ground towards the stable gates, leaving Tellman to follow after.
Finn Hennessey was standing in the yard talking to a groom who was lounging against the stable door. They were sheltered from the wind and it was quite mild out there in the late afternoon. Pitt dropped his pace to an amble. He did not want Finn to run, and then have to chase him in an unpleasant scene. It would all be painful enough. He saw Tellman walk past and go to the far side of the yard, as if he intended going through the gates and into the drive.
“Mr. Hennessey,” Pitt said, stopping in front of him.
Finn looked around and straightened up, throwing away the straw he had been chewing. The groom seemed unaware of anything untoward.
“Yes?” Finn said, then saw something in Pitt’s eyes, in his face, or even the tension in his body. For a second of prickling silence he stood poised on the edge of flight, panic in his face. Then he realized there was nowhere to run to, and he relaxed. A curious rigidity took hold of him. His body stiffened as though in anticipation of a blow, and a veil came over the directness of his eyes. “Yes?” he said again.
Pitt had seen that look before. He had not really expected Hennessey to tell him anything, but the faint hope of it died that moment.
“Finn Hennessey, I would like to question you about the dynamite placed in Mr. Radley’s study and exploded by Mr. McGinley, we assume, in an attempt to make it safe. Do you know where that dynamite came from?”
“No,” Finn said with a faint smile.
“I have reason to believe there may still be some in your room,” Pitt said grimly. “I intend to go and look. If, of course, you have removed it and placed it somewhere else, then it would be better for you if you tell me where it is before it explodes and hurts someone else … almost certainly someone who has no part in your quarrel.”
“I’m saying nothing,” Finn replied, then stood still, his head lifted, his eyes straight ahead.
Tellman came up behind him and slipped on the handcuffs. The groom looked aghast. He opened his mouth to speak and then found he had nothing to say.
Pitt turned and left to go and search Hennessey’s room. He took the butler, Dlikes, with him, in case he should find something and later require a witness to the fact.
Dlikes stood in the doorway somberly, deeply unhappy at the whole affair. Pitt went into the room and began methodically to go through cupboards and drawers. He found the candles and the one stick of dynamite inside a tall boot at the back of the wardrobe. It was out of sight, but hardly hidden. Hennessey had either been sure enough of Gracie or had thought it not worth trying to hide in some other place less obviously his. Maybe his type of loyalty extended to not attempting to lay the blame on anyone else. He was a passionate believer in his cause, not a murderer for hire or for personal satisfaction.
There was paper ash in the bowl. It could have been anything, possibly the letter Gracie saw on the table. He had taken care at least to destroy everything to link him to someone else. That was worth a kind of oblique respect.
Pitt showed the dynamite to Dlikes, then replaced it and requested the butler to lock the door and give him the key. If there was another key, he was to find that and give it to Pitt also. There was a storeroom with a grille window and a stout door where Hennessey could remain until the local police took him away, perhaps tomorrow or the day after.
Pitt went back to Finn again, with Tellman, and told him about finding the dynamite.
“I’m not saying anything,” Finn repeated, looking directly at Pitt. “I know my cause is just. I’ve lived for Irish freedom. I’ll die for it if I have to. I love my country and its people. I’ll just be one more martyr in the cause.”
“Being hanged for a murder you committed is not martyrdom,” Pitt replied tartly. “Most people would regard murdering your employer, a man who trusted you, another Irishman fighting for the same cause, as a pretty shabby and cowardly betrayal. And not only that, but pointless as well. What did killing McGinley achieve? He wanted exactly the same as you did.”
“I didn’t kill McGinley,” Finn said stubbornly. “I didn’t put the dynamite there.”
“You expect us to believe that?” Pitt said with disdain.
“I don’t care a damn what you believe!” Finn spat back. “You’re just another English oppressor forcing your will on a defenseless people.”
“You’re the one with the dynamite,” Pitt retaliated. “You’re the one who blew up McGinley, not me.”
“I didn’t put the dynamite there! Anyway, it wasn’t meant for McGinley, you fool,” Finn said contemptuously. “It was for Radley! I’d have thought you’d realize that—” He stopped.
Pitt smiled. “If you didn’t put it there, how do you know who it was meant for?”
“I’m saying nothing,” Finn repeated angrily. “I don’t betray my friends. I’ll die first.”
“Probably,” Pitt agreed. But he also knew that he would get little more from him, and grudgingly he respected his courage, if little else. “You are being used,” he added from the door.
Finn smiled. His face was very pale, and there was a sweat of fear on his lip. “But I know by whom, and what for, and I’m willing. Can you say as much?”
“I believe so,” Pitt replied. “Are you as sure that those you’ve used feel as certain?”
Finn’s jaw tightened. “You use who you have to. The cause justifies it.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Pitt replied, this time with absolute certainty. “If it destroys what is good in you, then it is a bad cause, or you have misunderstood it. Everything you do becomes part of it and part of you. You can’t take it off, like old clothes, when you get there. It’s not clothes, Finn, it’s your flesh.”
“No, it isn’t!” Finn shouted after him, but Pitt shut the door and walked slowly back towards the kitchens and then into the main part of the house. He was miserable, and inside him there was a deep, hard anger. Finn had been gullible, like thousands of others. The worst in him had been wooed and won, then used by more cynical people. Certainly he had been willing to choose violence to right the wrongs he perceived. He had not cared who was hurt by it. But he had had the courage of his beliefs. He had taken at least some of the risks himself. Behind him were other men, hidden, who had prompted him to his acts, who had perpetuated the old legends and lies and used them to motivate the repeating violence.