A Dusk of Demons by John Christopher Page B

twenty, tall and dark and athletic. He seemed to smile more than most of the people here, though as the General’s only son he probably had more to smile about.
    â€œSo does Antonia.”
    â€œDon’t you?”
    â€œHe’s probably all right.” She paused again. “I’d just like to know why we’re being so well treated.”
    â€œDoes it matter?”
    She did not answer, and I let it go. A lot had happened in the past week, nearly all unpleasant. I couldn’t see the point in worrying about something pleasant. I lay back, closing my eyes, opening them when Paddy cried, “Joe!”
    He came lumbering down the slope. “Mother Ryan said I’d find you somewhere around here, to bid farewell.”
    â€œYou’re not going?” Paddy said.
    â€œHave to. Things need seeing to on the island.”
    I said, “There’s no hurry. Andy’s there.”
    Joe laughed. “And that’s a good reason for getting back!”
    Paddy said, “By now Sheriff Wilson will know you helped us get away.”
    â€œHe might guess it.”
    â€œYou could get into trouble.”
    â€œGuessing’s one thing, proving’s another. No one ever knows where my boat is or has been, and noteven the Sheriff will lay charges against a fisherman without solid evidence. I’ve good mates. I’ll be all right, as well off there as here, certain sure.”
    â€œIt’s better than you said,” I told him.
    â€œYou reckon?”
    â€œThey served a salmon at dinner last night which must have weighed thirty-three pounds. I reckon whoever landed it had a fight on his hands.”
    Joe shook his head. “It didn’t come out of the sea.”
    â€œSea or river, it would have taken some holding.”
    â€œThey grow ’em from fry, in reservoirs. One of the men was telling me.” His voice was scornful.
    I said, “There’s so much here, of everything.”
    â€œFor some. I had my supper with the servants, and we didn’t have those sort of victuals. I’d better be on my way.”
    â€œI wish I was coming with you,” Paddy said.
    She would say that. “You’ll be all right,” Joe said. He gave her a hug, and he and I shook hands. “Maybe things will sort themselves out, and you’ll all come back and we’ll build a new house on Old Isle.” He grinned at me. “For the new Master.”
    Paddy said, “You’ll look after Liza and the kittens?”
    â€œI will. Though cats can look after themselves. Better than people mostly.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    General Pengelly was tall and gray-bearded, thin but potbellied, and I hardly ever saw him without a pipe in his mouth, even at the dinner table. The smell was sweetish and not unpleasant, but it permeated everything. He had a soft, slow voice you had to strain to hear.
    Apart from Ralph, he had a wife and two daughters. Rachel and Millicent were in their middle twenties: one tall, one short and plump, both plain. The wife’s name was Maud, but everyone including the General addressed her as Mistress. She too was tall, and one could see that, unlike her daughters, she had been handsome. But her expression was grim, her infrequent smile stiff.
    Everyone here wore somber clothes. The ladies’ everyday dresses were dark gray, though that of the Mistress had a white collar. Mother Ryan and Antonia had been given similar dresses, and Paddy one that had probably originated with Millicent: The length was about right, but was much too full.
    The General presided over the dining table from a broad chair with wide, flat arms. His wife kept a close scrutiny on the company from the far end, maintaining a generally forbidding attitude to all except her son. Him she fussed, selecting tidbits for his plate. I saw him smile and shrug at Antonia while she was doing this.
    Strict rules of discipline were enforced in the household.