Reports like pistol shots heralded the first flames bursting through the roof of the house. Pollard looked up. Dislodged slates were pouring over the eaves in a deadly black rain.

‘Come on, let’s get moving.’

Surprisingly, none of the cars proved difficult to start. Five minutes later the small convoy had halted a hundred yards away from the doomed house. It was bitterly cold there though the cars were sheltered by the belt of trees. Even so, most of the men and women, wrapped in blankets, stood outside for an hour silently watching the fire’s further progress, the thought of Fletcher and Swanson’s bodies lying heavy on their minds.

The grey watered light of dawn saw the group restored to some kind of order. The Volvo’s first-aid box had provided material for strapping up Paul’s wrist. Bourne’s head had been properly bandaged. Coffee had been made on the portable calor gas stove. They had even had hot soup.

It was doubtful if anyone had done more than doze all through the remainder of the night. About six o’clock heavy rain had begun to fall, drumming on the car roofs, running down the steamed-up windows. It slackened after an hour, stopped at eight-fifteen. When they wearily opened the car doors, got out and stretched themselves they noticed that the bitter winter chill had gone. It was still cold and damp, but with the temperature obviously well above freezing. Already the snow was turning to slush. In the Ardnamurchan hills the gullies would be foaming torrents. It was almost as if the destruction of Ardvreck House had broken some spell it had cast over the winter landscape.

Paul looked across at the blackened, smoking ruin. The walls still stood on the sides nearer the cars. Greasy grey smoke wafted desultorily upwards to the brightening sky like smoke from a town’s rubbish dump. Paul sniffed, detecting even at one hundred yards, the sour, harsh stench a burned house exudes.

Pollard crossed to him. He looked tired and strained. Like many red-haired men his beard would be blond, judging by the stubble on his chin.

‘How’s the arm?’

‘It’ll do.’

‘Good. If this improvement in the weather keeps up some of us should be able to get help by nightfall.’

‘When are you thinking of moving?’

‘Almost immediately. We’ll take the Land-Rover, try to clear the road to the bridge. After that it’ll be on foot. Smith and Hunt will come with me.’ He grimaced. ‘I know it seems like most of the able-bodied are quitting but I don’t see any other way. There are probably umpteen drifts on the road and it’ll be hard going on foot when we get across the gully.’

Paul grinned, sketched a salute.

‘Aye, aye, Captain. Don’t worry. We’ll be all right. Somehow I think Ardvreck House has no more surprises for us.’

He could not have been more wrong.