than the
‘This story to be connected with the murder you had seen committed in Edinburgh?’
‘Yes. As I knew that this man was in the laird’s employ, I thought a bit of blackmail might get me what I was after. I was, as Mrs Gavin has pointed out, every kind of a fool to think I could dent the hide of a man like that.’
‘So what did you do, Mr Grant?’
‘I did my job in Edinburgh and then, in the evenings, I went on my motor-cycle to the edge of Loch na Greine to see what the chances were of getting into An Tigh Mor.’
‘Not a difficult matter if you know what to do,’ said Laura.
‘Quite, Mrs Gavin. Well, I had no luck at all, to begin with. I turned the lantern; I rang the bell. Nothing doing, except that some old fellow cursed me across the water from the island bank and said that they were not expecting anybody and that I was to gang awa’. Which I did. But the following night was different. That would have been the night Mrs Gavin turned up.’
‘Yes, possibly, but you must have got there later than I did,’ said Laura. ‘You weren’t on the island when they brought me across to Tannasgan.’
‘In the rain?’
‘In the rain? I should say so!’
‘I left Edinburgh at five, when the Conference rose – perhaps Dame Beatrice remembers? – and rode straight up to Inverness and on to Freagair and Tannasgan. I had turned the lantern and clanged the bell when I realised that the boat was tied up at the jetty, so I parked my motorcycle and rowed myself across. Goodness knows why the boat was there. I suppose I pulled a fast one, taking it over like that, but I didn’t hear any shouting, so perhaps the guest didn’t turn up.’
‘And when you landed on the island?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘Yes, well, thereby hangs a tale.’
‘Aha!’ said Laura. ‘Give us a summary.’
‘That’s not so easy. I walked up to the house and reconnoitred. An old wife – well, not so old, really – came out of the door and speired at me to know what I wanted. I said I wished speech with the laird and, with that, she said I should call again on the morrow, as he always saw reporters the morn’s morn.’
‘How did she know you were a reporter?’ asked Laura.
‘I dinna ken.’ He grinned. ‘Maybe we carry the mark of the beast on us.’
‘Well, what happened then?’
‘It was then I heard the pipes. The sound came from a room, I think, which faced the loch.’
‘Was there a light in it?’
‘Never a light.’
‘At what time would that have been?’
‘Now, now, Mrs Gavin! You don’t catch me like that’
‘So you never encountered the laird?’
‘I did not. The only person I encountered, apart from the old wife, was yourself, when you were leaving.’
‘Then why do you deduce that, when the piping ceased, the laird died?’
‘It’s the only thing to believe.’
‘Is that so? I can’t see the connection.’
‘Can you not?’ His expression was enigmatic. ‘There is only one thing on which we ought to be agreed, Mrs Gavin. If I’m right, and the laird was murdered when the piping ceased, neither you nor I can have murdered the laird, can we? I seem to have said this before.’
‘There’s no proof about the piping, and there’s nothing to show that the laird was on Tannasgan that night. I certainly didn’t see anybody except the red-haired man, the servants and you.’
‘Well, well! As I say, I did not see the laird either, but what does that prove?’
‘I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,’ said Laura.
‘And we’re sticking together over all this?’
‘Time will show,’ said Dame Beatrice, before Laura could answer.
Chapter 10
Loch Na Greine
‘
