The big lounge was transformed. A bulky camera, on a tripod, stood over by the window bay. It was trained on the fireplace area which was brightly lit by two spot-lamps. They seemed to be battery-powered. Cliff Swanson, his long back bent, was peering into the camera viewfinder while Harry Fletcher ran a tape measure from one of the spotlights to the fireplace. Someone had put a fresh log on the glowing charcoal remains of two others. The slightly damp wood was spitting and sparking.

Jeremy Hunt, clipboard in hand, was surveying the lounge, his back towards the door when they entered. He swung round. ‘Just about ready.’

Bourne nodded in satisfaction.

‘Excellent. I’ll go to the kitchen and fetch Miss Parish and Miss Mair.’ He strode out of the room. Meredith’s voice was dry, with just a shade of irony, as he addressed the Wilsons and the army men.

‘Make yourself comfortable but keep the couch to the left of the fireplace empty. Perhaps I should say a few words about the set-up.

‘Dr Bourne has made a name for himself not only as a scientist but also from his regular appearances on television. In fact he first came to us at Benmore House following a programme on extrasensory perception in the course of which I invited him to see for himself the research work we are engaged in. Ever since then he has retained an interest in the field. The presence of our friends here – ’ he gestured towards Hunt and the others ‘ – is a result of that interest. Bourne is presently working on a series of programmes on The Exploration of Inner Space, that is, the mind-brain problem. His television producer was extremely enthusiastic that a TV crew came with us here to film our researches. Oh, here they are!’

Ann Parish, Joyce Mair and Bourne filed in. Carol, seated beside Paul on the couch to the right of the fireplace, thought that Ann displayed a diffidence, almost a reluctance to come forward. Joyce, now wearing a pair of heavy-rimmed glasses, carried a clipboard. Bourne, very much the master of ceremonies, disposed everyone like a general making ready for battle.

‘Cameras ready? Good. Ann, will you make yourself comfortable on that couch. Captain Pollard, Sergeant Smith. If you would take these armchairs. How is that, Jeremy? All right for the camera?’

Hunt swung his head, looking from Ann, reclining in a corner of the big couch, to his camera. He nodded. Bourne went and sat beside Ann. He nodded at Hunt, who signed to Fletcher. Joyce picked up a clapperboard, stood in front of the cameras. In a businesslike way she clacked the two hinged bars of wood together and said: ‘Ardvreck House, take one.’ Quickly she stepped back to leave a clear field from camera to Bourne and Ann. He looked steadily at Ann. His voice was firm, confident, authoritative.