‘Only two bedrooms unoccupied – one and seven.’ He squeezed his lower lip between thumb and forefinger. ‘Better be one. It’s bigger and anyway seven has that broken window.’ He raised his head. ‘We’d better have a look at seven again and try to put a board or something over that window. The snow must be getting in.’

Captain Pollard nodded.

‘I’ll see to that now.’ With a quick smile at the Wilsons he strode out of the room.

The black-haired woman rose from her seat before the fire, uncurling with an almost feline grace.

‘And I’ll organize something to eat. You must be famished. We can run to hot soup, cold meat, veg and potatoes, some dessert. How will that do?’

Paul and Carol spoke together.

‘Marvellous – ’

‘That’ll be fine – ’

At the closed double door the woman stopped.

‘Harry, come and help me.’

The balding man rose, moved towards her. He grinned.

‘Afraid of the – ’

‘Harry!’ Meredith’s voice interrupted him sharply. ‘Perhaps you’d better see how Sergeant Smith and – uh – Mr Swanson are getting on. They’ll need something to eat.’

Carol thought: What was Harry going to say? There are two more we haven’t seen. ‘Captain’ and ‘Sergeant’! What have we here? The army? Mr Meredith almost forgot the second one’s name. I don’t like the man Bourne. He’s apart from everyone else, feels superior. Meredith was using a map of the house. What sort of situation is this when the owner – is he the owner? – has to use a map of his house? I wish we were at the cottage. I hate the idea of staying here tonight. She listened to the wind mourn its inability to penetrate the warm room.

Meredith said: ‘Ann, let’s check on the number of blankets airing in the sitting-room.’

And now Bourne and Hunt were alone with them in the room.

The sardonic man rested a hand on the mantelpiece, drew it away, grimaced at the smudges of dust on his fingers and brushed at them with the other hand.

‘Have you travelled far today?’

‘From Edinburgh.’

‘Indeed. Quite a journey.’

Paul felt the newly-weds’ reluctance to provide information.

‘I’d better get our cases out of the boot. Can I borrow one of these torches?’

Jeremy Hunt stirred.

‘Of course. Look, I’ll come with you. Hold the torch and keep the car door open while you rummage around. Make it quicker. Okay?’

‘Thanks.’

As the dining-room door closed, Carol, conscious of Bourne’s eyes on her face, thought uneasily: Why does everyone have to move about in pairs in this place? Except the soldier.