‘Then get me out of these damn handcuffs,’ Asquith demanded loudly. ‘I’m the victim here, not the criminal. I have to tell you that I am a personal friend of the chief constable.’

I was lifted to my feet by two large policemen, one holding firmly onto each arm.

‘Please don’t listen to that man,’ I said urgently to the one on my left. ‘I don’t care if he’s a personal friend of the Pope, the Dalai Lama and the Archbishop of Canterbury, he’s still lying. Check him for gunshot residue. Whatever he says, he is definitely the baddy here. He shot me. I only had the gun in my pocket because I managed to take it from him.’

I’m not sure if he believed me or not—probably not—but he spoke to the other officers nevertheless, and they didn’t remove Asquith’s handcuffs.

I turned again to the policeman on my left. ‘But he was right about one thing. There is another man in the castle and he desperately needs some medical attention. I have already called for an ambulance.’ I told him where to find Valance, but he seemed reluctant to pass on the information.

‘We have to wait here,’ he said, ‘until we get the all-clear to go in from the chopper.’

‘But why?’ I said. ‘Other than the injured man, there’s no one else in there.’

‘And why should I believe you?’ he replied cynically, taking a firmer grip on my arm.

‘Because I’m telling you the truth.’

He laughed. ‘I’d be a rich man if I had a fiver for every time I’ve been told that by some lying villain.’

But did I really care about Valance? I suppose it might make things easier for us now if he lived, rather than if he died, but I wouldn’t cry about it either way.

Several more police vehicles arrived, plus the ambulance I had called, all with a plethora of more flashing blue lights.

Quite a crowd of locals, alerted by the sound of the hovering helicopter, had turned out to watch the action, although the police were trying to get them farther back by unrolling blue-and-white tape everywhere.

Standing among the onlookers, I could clearly see Simon Paulson, who’d only had to step outside his front door.

Goodness knows what he was thinking as he watched both Harry Asquith and me being frog-marched away with our wrists firmly cuffed behind our backs and a burly policeman holding on to each of our arms.

My pair took me down the sloping path, out through the little gate at the bottom, before escorting me along the road to a police car.

‘Hold on a minute,’ I said. ‘I need the ambulance.’

‘Why?’ one of them asked.

‘As I’ve been trying to tell you, I’ve been shot.’

‘Where?’

‘In the right hand.’