Behind the leaded glass panels a light glowed and moved. It brightened. The door opened. A bearded man, his hand holding a large torch, stared at him. His face was a negative in the upflung light.

The man gestured with the torch, and stepped back.

‘Come in, come in!’

He entered the house, entered a darkness enhanced rather than dispersed by the solitary torchbeam. He felt spaciousness – large hall? – and a musty unused smell – dry-rot? – reached his nostrils.

‘Follow me.’

The pool of light from the torch moved away to the right. A door opened and brighter light blazed through the widening gap. Voices came to his ears. His guide’s body momentarily filled the gap, went through and he followed.

Paul’s first impression was of a large room filled with people standing or sitting, either at a big, central dining-table or on the floor near a log fire burning brightly in a handsome fireplace. The room’s illumination came from four oil-lamps. Some sort of meal was in progress – an alfresco one since dishes were scattered not only on the table but before the people sitting on the floor. Even those few people standing were eating from the plates they held. There must have been eight or nine men and women in the room. They wore a variety of clothes, from ski-outfits to lounge-suits; their ages seemed to range from early twenties to late fifties.

On his entry, conversations died and the room’s occupants turned to face him, curiosity evident in their eyes.

He had stopped shivering but was miserably conscious of his wet, clammy trouser legs and socks.

‘I’m sorry. My wife and I seem to be lost. We are making for Shona Cottage. Perhaps you can tell me how to get there?’ What is this place? he wondered. A private house?

A man in his fifties, bespectacled, with a fleshy face and untidy grey-brown hair, rose from the table.

‘Your wife? Where is she?’

‘Outside in the car.’

‘Outside! Hunt, do go and bring her in.’

The bearded man left the room. Paul found himself protesting.

‘There’s no need. If you could just give me directions . . .’

The older man gestured towards the fire.

‘Come over and warm yourself.’ He allowed himself to move towards the fireplace. The others still watched him. The bespectacled man hesitated.

‘It’s a bit awkward.’ Someone laughed, a short bark of laughter; the speaker turned his head sharply, then looked at Paul again. ‘Do you know these parts?’

‘No, I’m afraid not. Nor does my wife – at least not well. Where are we?’

‘This is Ardvreck House.’

His eyes scanned Paul’s face, as if expecting some sort of reaction.

‘You don’t know it?’

‘No. Is it far from Shona Cottage?’

The man sighed. ‘My dear fellow, I haven’t the faintest idea.’ He turned to the others. ‘Does anyone know?’ No one answered. ‘I’m afraid we’re all strangers here too.’