He struggled to his feet.
"I'm dog-weary," he muttered. "Think I will."
"Good-night," he added after a moment. "And be sure you see the fires are out before you turn in, Deirdre. You're not to be staying up late, either! I won't have her getting too fond of the cards, Steve."
He stumbled across the room to the far end where a screen of brushwood and bagging against the back of the shanty made another small room.
Deirdre laughed again.
"I'm winning all the time," she said gaily, "so they won't want to play long."
The cards went backwards and forwards across the table to the tune of her exclamations and the chime of her laughter, the muttered oaths and exclamations of Steve and McNab. Steve was soggy with drink; but McNab was not as drunk as he seemed. His eyes caught hers with a curious expression when the Schoolmaster had gone from the room.
"And who's the man Conal's going to kill for comin' between you, Deirdre?" he asked.
"How do I know?" she said, a little nervously.
"P'raps it's the man sent you the gold chain," McNab murmured. His eyes glimmered at her out of the darkness. "They tell me Conal went round like a madman looking for Pat Glynn to tell him who it was, threatening to break the last bone in Pat's body if he wouldn't speak."