My Bones Will Keep

The werewolf had been thrown on to his side, but the enormous gryphon had been left alone. It seemed as though the excavator had boggled at the idea of attempting to uproot him. The salamander, however, had suffered. His large head, spangled with yellow paint in the form of diamonds, lay at an angle to his lizard’s body where the stonework had cracked.

Laura, chilly in her wet swim-suit, studied the ruins with concern. Macbeth and young Bradan, between them, had left a sorry mess. Conscious of hunger and cold, Laura left the island and swam back to the boathouse. When she re-entered An Tigh Mor it was to find a warm smoulder of peats in the dining-room and Mrs Corrie polishing the fine old sideboard.

‘Well!’ exclaimed Mrs Corrie, as Laura approached the fire, wrapped in the towel she had taken down to the boathouse. ‘A water-kelpie he called you, and a waterkelpie ye are! Get you into your claes before you catch your death!’

Laura laughed, warmed herself by the fire and then went upstairs to dress. She met Dame Beatrice on the landing.

‘Been for a swim,’ said Laura. ‘Either Macbeth or young Bradan has committed mayhem on the fabulous beasts. You ought to see the carnage!’

‘I intend to do so immediately after breakfast, child. I wonder whether the menu includes kippers?’

‘It’s haddocks’ eyes you search for among the heather bright, isn’t it?’

‘That may well be. Incidentally, I believe I have worked them into waistcoat buttons in the silent night.’

‘You have? Whoopee, Mrs Croc. dear. Tell me all.’

‘You shall know what there is to be known when we have digested our breakfasts.’

Laura was still young enough in heart to respond to this promise. As it happened, there were kippers for breakfast, brought in, said Mrs Corrie, from Aberdeen via Inverness and Tigh-Osda. As soon as breakfast was over, Laura and Dame Beatrice went down to the boathouse with George and Corrie and were rowed over to Haugr.

‘Now,’ said Laura, when they had landed on the wooded island, ‘I’ve almost forgotten my breakfast, so you’d better redeem your promise.’

‘We are going treasure-hunting, child. There may have been other reasons for the destruction of the statuary, but young Bradan did not come here merely to destroy. He knew – or believed, at any rate – that most of his father’s ill-gotten gains were hereabouts.’

‘Ay,’ said Corrie, ‘there was no a muckle heap of siller at the bank. I ken that verra well, for when the old laird wanted for money, I was despatched tae Inverness wi’ a cheque to cash, and mair than aince we were overdrawn there and the laird would go himself to set matters right. Ay, there maun be a hidey-hole hereabouts, as ye say, mistress, but the laird keepit verra close and helpit himself when naebody but the guidwife was on Tannasgan wi’ him, and well he kenned that she would never set foot on Haugr.’

Laura took the lead, Dame Beatrice was immediately behind her and George brought up the rear so that he could keep an eye on Corrie (his own idea, much appreciated by Dame Beatrice.) She made no reference to it, but thought it both touching and amusing. In this order the party traversed the little path until they came to the maze and, in the centre of it, the smashed and broken statuary.

The two men carried respectively a spade and a garden fork, and, when they reached their objective, a parcel borne by Laura, who had insisted upon relieving Dame Beatrice of it, was found to contain a large hammer.

‘Bags I,’ said Laura, swinging it up and down. ‘What do we do first – slam out or dig?’

‘Both, I hope,’ her employer replied. ‘The stonework has been so badly damaged already that I feel we may be forgiven for adding to the destruction. The basilisk may be left until the last, for it seems clear that the money is not in his possession. George and Corrie must work in partnership with one another and carefully dig up the centre of the maze, by which I mean all the earth except that on which the statues have been standing, for they would appear to be too heavy for one man to have moved when he wanted to uncover his cache. You, my dear Laura, may do what you will with your hammer. When you are tired, you may hand it over to me.’

The Amazonian Laura grunted. She did not tire easily. The three then went to work. The ground in the centre of the maze had been well trampled and digging was not easy. Soon each man removed his coat and was perspiring freely. Laura swung her hammer with zeal tempered by discretion, for it was her firm, although unspoken, opinion that some, at any rate, of Bradan’s treasure might be in the form of precious stones, a kind of wealth which had worldwide currency.

A couple of hours passed. The men had dug up most of the centre of the maze to a depth of a couple of spits. First Corrie had broken up the soil with his fork, to be followed by George prospecting with the spade. Every half- hour they had exchanged tools, as the work with the fork was considerably more exhausting than that performed with the spade. Laura had broken up the werewolf and was attacking the gryphon when an overcast sky, which had been threatening rain for the past hour, discharged a true West Highland deluge. Hastily the men retrieved their coats and Dame Beatrice, rising from the remains of the salamander (which had suffered destruction, she supposed, when the ship he represented had blown up) announced firmly that work was over until the rain ceased. So the party hastened back to the boat and made across the lake for Tannasgan and An Tigh Mor.

‘Well,’ said Laura, damp-haired and wearing a change of clothing, ‘that’s put paid to that for the rest of the day, I suppose. Wonder what’s for lunch? The usual mutton, I expect.’ She was at the window watching the rain sweeping over the loch. ‘I love my native land, but I do think it could do with a little less rain.’

‘It may clear up this afternoon,’ said Dame Beatrice. She mended the fire with more peats. ‘In any case, I am beginning to wonder…’

‘Whether your hunch has gone wrong? Oh, I don’t know. There’s still quite a bit of digging to be done, and I’ve hardly touched the gryphon yet. I had a feeling that the stuff would be in the werewolf’s tummy. That’s why I tackled him first. Do you think the police have got hold of the right man? You know, I still don’t believe Corrie had told us the whole truth about that night.’

‘I think he has told it as far as he knows it. What he has said now checks pretty well with what we already know. If the rain eases off a little this afternoon, I propose to drive in to Tigh-Osda and have another talk with the lad Ian.’

‘If it eases off, I’m going to have another go with my hammer, then. I don’t mind confessing, childish though it may seem, that treasure-hunt fever is on me.’