When he first awakened and checked his watch it was shortly after five. He was cold and stiff and his limbs ached from contact with the stone floor. He lay in the darkness listening to the rain and the wind as it moaned through the graveyard. After a while he drifted into sleep again. He became aware that someone was prodding him and opened his eyes, at the same time feeling for the butt of the Luger. Johnny Murphy squatted beside him. The blanket was down from the iron grill and a grey light seeped into the room. ‘Is it still raining?’ Fallon said softly. The boy nodded. ‘It hasn’t let up all night.’ He held up a large thermos flask. ‘Get some of this into you, Mr. Fallon. It’ll do you a power of good.’ Fallon swallowed some of the hot liquid. It was coffee, strong and good. He sat up and rested his back against the wall. ‘How’s our friend doing?’ he said. Murphy grunted in disgust. ‘Fast asleep. I don’t like that man at all, Mr. Fallon. It’s the look in his eyes puts me off.’ Fallon smiled softly.
