‘Mrs. Bridget must have pulled the kitchen dresser on the top of her,’ said Mike. ‘Or it’s a procession of cups and saucers down the cellar steps and they missed their footing.’ But, in spite of the man’s jocular tone, Richard thought he perceived something serious in Mike’s face. It occurred to him that the Irishman had guessed the true cause of the noise, and was trying to hide it from the visitor. ‘You’re up early in these parts,’ said Richard, determined to ignore the crash. ‘I’m a bad sleeper, your honour, and when I can’t sleep I get up and enjoy the works of Nature--same as your honour.’ The man looked as fresh as though he had had a long night’s rest. ‘Like to see the horses, sorr?’ he added. ‘Certainly,’ said Richard, following Mike into the stable, which was at that end of the range of farm buildings nearest the house. A couple of Irish mares occupied the two stalls of the stable, fine animals both, with clean legs and long, straight necks. But Richard knew nothing of horses, and after a few conventional phrases of admiration he passed into the harness-room behind the stable, and so into what had once been a large farmyard. ‘No farming here nowadays,’ he said. ‘No, sorr,’ said Mike, taking off his coat, preparatory to grooming the mares. ‘Motorcars and farming don’t go together. It’s many a year since a hen clucked on that midden.’ Richard went into several of the sheds. In one he discovered a Panhard car, similar to that belonging to Lord Dolmer. He examined it, saw that it was in order, and then, finding a screwdriver, removed the screw which held the recoil-spring of its principal brake; he put the screw in his pocket. Then he proceeded further, saw the other two cars in another shed, and next door to that shed a large workshop full of Yankee tools and appliances. Here, improving on his original idea, he filed the thread of the screw which he had abstracted, returned to the first shed, and replaced the screw loosely in its hole. At the furthest corner of the erstwhile farmyard was a locked door, the only locked door in the quadrangle. He tried the latch several times, and at last turned away. From the open door of the harness-room Mike was watching him. ‘I’ve been on a voyage of discovery,’ he called, rather self-consciously, across the farmyard. ‘Did your honour happen to discover America?’ Mike answered. Richard fancied that he could trace a profound irony in the man’s tone. ‘No,’ he laughed back. ‘But I think I’ll try to discover the village. Which way?’ ‘Along the boreen, sort; then up the hill and down the hill, and you’ll come to it if you keep going. It’s a mile by day and two by night.’ Richard reached the house again precisely at seven o’clock. Teresa was out in the garden gathering flowers. They exchanged the usual chatter about being up early, walks before breakfast, and the freshness of the morning, and then a gong sounded. ‘Breakfast,’ said Teresa, flying towards the house.