It was a pointless boast. There was no door on which Troy could knock. It was the knock upon his door that mattered. Driberg, standing in the courtyard, hesitant, startled, his arm outstretched to the knocker, so quickly had Troy snatched back the door.
‘Not a bad time, I hope? Did try to catch you this morning, but it looked to me as though you and your brother were knee deep in something.’
‘We were. Are you coming in?’
‘Yes.’ He followed Troy back into the house. ‘But then, if you’ve time we should nip out pretty sharpish.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘Curran.’
‘What?’
‘Spoke too soon about old Egg. Appears there’s something he has to say to you. I left him in the Coach and Horses not ten minutes ago.’