Meeting,’ said Dame Beatrice, referring to the English rendering of Coinneamh. ‘If so, I wonder why Mrs Grant was willing to put you up for the night? I wonder how she ever contrived to persuade a baby-sitter to stay in the house? I wonder how much Mr Macbeth knows about the Grants, and how much of the knowledge he had never disclosed?’

‘Golly!’ said Laura ‘What hare has poor Ian at the station started now?’

‘In what sense, dear child?’

‘This Coinneamh gag. Are we talking of witchcraft, do you think?’

‘Of one kind of witchcraft, no doubt. We now know that we are talking of the kind of witchcraft which (to coin a phrase and alter it just a little) has been running guns and butter in the same ships.’

‘As for Mrs Grant putting me up for the night, I am pretty sure that she may have wanted the use of a car in the early hours of the morning and saw how she could get it. But I may be wronging her hopelessly about that. Anyway, where do we go from here?’

‘Oh, back to Tannasgan.’

‘To confront Macbeth with our new knowledge, such as it is?’

‘To invite his co-operation, as I see it.’

‘Some hopes, if you ask me! I shouldn’t think he’d ever give anybody any cooperation in his life!’

‘We shall get it, provided that he has returned safely from Dingwall. I shall challenge him, and I am fairly certain that he will pick up the gage.’

‘Don’t forget to be quick on the draw with that lethal little gat of yours, then,’ said Laura. ‘Sheriff,’ she added unnecessarily.

Dame Beatrice cackled and her car drew in to one of the passing-places to let through a car coming from the opposite direction.

‘That was our friend Macbeth,’ she said. ‘Did you see him?’

‘Good Lord! We ought to follow him up,’ said Laura, ‘But I don’t see how George can turn on a road as narrow as this.’

‘There is no need for us to follow him,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘It will be much better to meet him on his own ground. We will await him at An Tigh Mor.’

Arrived on the shores of Loch na Greine, the car drew in on to the grass verge and Laura got out. Macbeth, it seemed, had rowed himself ashore, for the boat was tied up to the jetty. George opened the car door for Dame Beatrice and then led the way to the boat, handed in his employer, waited for both women to seat themselves and then untied the boat and pushed off from the jetty.

‘Wonder whether the Corries are still in possession?’ said Laura, when they reached the boathouse. ‘Oh, well, we shall soon know.’

‘Do you wish me to accompany you to the house, madam?’ asked George. Dame Beatrice patted the pocket of her skirt.

‘Not this time, George, thank you,’ she replied. ‘I think you had better stay here in case the owner of the house comes back and needs the boat. If you hear the sound of a shot, you may come to our rescue.’

‘Very good, madam,’ He watched them as they walked towards the house, for the boathouse had wooden planking on three sides and the door was at the back and had been left open. Laura went up to the mansion and hammered on the door. It was opened by a police-sergeant.

‘Well, I’m blessed!’ said Laura, her marriage to Detective Chief-Inspector Robert Gavin having freed her from the average citizen’s awe of the police. ‘I thought you lot had finished here a couple of weeks ago!’

‘Gin ye’ll step inside, ladies, the Inspector would be glad of the favour of a word wi’ ye. We spied ye from the window,’ said the policeman, holding the door wide open and standing aside. ‘He’ll be in the dining-room. That is the door, on the right there.’

They entered the dining-room and a tall inspector of police looked round and then stood up.

‘I am very glad to see you, Dame Beatrice,’ he said gravely. ‘This saves me the trouble of running you to earth. It seems you have been travelling half over Scotland since your Conference ended.’

‘Yes, Mrs Gavin and I have had some enjoyable journeys,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Inspector…?’

‘MacCraig, of the Edinburgh police. Please to sit down.’

They took chairs and he seated himself (uncharacteristically in the presence of witnesses) in the chair which he had been occupying when they came in. This caused him to face the window.

‘As Mrs Gavin remarked to your sergeant at the front door, we thought you had left this house for good,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Ah, well, you’ll note I’m from Edinburgh. Now, we have in our files a story which Mrs Gavin told to one of our men on point duty about a man being deliberately pushed under a car and killed. Well, very recently that story has received confirmation from a reliable source and it ties up, we fancy, with the murder of Mr Bradan of this house, whose body, as you well know, was found stabbed and in a hogshead or barrel which had contained rum.’

‘Not whisky,’ said Laura. ‘Most unpatriotic.’

‘No, it wouldn’t have been whisky,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘What causes you to say that?’ asked the inspector.

‘There is a good deal of symbolism mixed up in this business, Inspector. You saw the significance of the fabulous beasts, of course?’

‘I am not aware that they had significance, Dame Beatrice. See here, now. We ken very well that you and Mrs Gavin have interested yourselves in this queer business. We know, from her own report to the Inverness police, and

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