“I think Pa always planned to leave this world as he entered it,” said Archie. “Naked and penniless.”

“Except for the distillery,” Virginia reminded them, “which he promised he’d leave to me.”

“And as you’re the only one of us who’s produced a son, I expect you can look forward to a whole lot more than just the distillery.”

“Does Glen Fenwick still make a profit?” asked Virginia, innocently.

“Just over ninety thousand pounds last year,” said Archie. “But I’ve always felt it could do much better. Pa dug his heels in whenever I suggested he should replace Jock Lamont with someone younger. But Jock retires in September and I think I’ve found the ideal person to take his place—Sandy Macpherson has been in the business for fifteen years and is full of bright ideas about how to improve the turnover. I was rather hoping you might find the time to meet Sandy while you’re in Scotland, Virginia.”

“Of course,” said Virginia, as one of the dogs brought a stick back to her, tail wagging hopefully. “I’d like to get the future of Glen Fenwick sorted out before I return to London.”

“Good. Then I’ll call Sandy later and invite him over for a drink.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” said Virginia. She didn’t feel this was the moment to tell her brothers that she’d been approached by the chairman of Johnnie Walker, and would be having breakfast with the chief executive of Teacher’s tomorrow morning. The figure of a million had already been bandied about, and she was speculating over how much more she could coax out of them.

“What time are we leaving for Edinburgh?” she asked as they crossed the moat and strolled back into the courtyard.

*   *   *

Adrian Sloane joined the queue at the ticket booth. He didn’t notice the two men who had slipped in behind him. When he reached the window, he asked for a first-class return to Bristol Temple Meads and handed over three five-pound notes. The clerk gave him a ticket and two pounds and seventy pence change. Sloane turned to find two men blocking his path.

“Mr. Sloane,” said the older of them, “I am arresting you for being in possession of counterfeit money, and trading the same while being aware that it was not legal tender.”

The junior officer quickly thrust Sloane’s arms behind his back and handcuffed him. They then marched the prisoner out of the station and bundled him into the back of a waiting police car.

*   *   *

Emma always took a second look at any vessel that flew the Canadian flag from its stern. She would then check the name on the hull before her heartbeat would return to normal.