“How awful, Binky.” We stared at each other in horror. “No wonder he was asking about Castle Rannoch this morning. I’m so glad I told him it was cold and drafty. If only I’d known I’d have said it was haunted too. You don’t think he really wants to live there?”

“I think what he really wants is for me to buy him off.”

“Can you afford to buy him off?”

“Absolutely not. You know we’re flat broke, Georgie. What with Father losing in Monte Carlo and then saddling me with the death duties when he shot himself—” He looked up hopefully. “That’s it. I shall challenge him to a duel. If he’s a man of honor, he’ll accept. We’ll fight for Castle Rannoch, man to man.”

I went over and put a hand on his shoulder. “Binky, my sweet, I hate to remind you, but apart from Father you are without doubt the worst shot in the civilized world. You have never managed to hit a grouse, a deer, a duck, or anything that moves.”

“De Mauxville won’t move. He’ll be standing there. And he’s a big target. I can’t actually miss.”

“He will undoubtedly fire first and he’s probably the best shot in all of France. I don’t want a dead brother as well as no family home.”

Binky sank his head into his hands. “What are we going to do, Georgie?”

I patted his shoulder. “We’ll fight it. We’ll find some way. At very worst we’ll take him up to Scotland to show him his new home and he’ll get pneumonia within the week. And if he doesn’t, I’ll take him up the crag to show him the view over the whole estate and push him off!”

“Georgie!” Binky looked shocked and then laughed.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I said, “and this is war.”

Binky didn’t return home until late that evening. I had waited up for him, impatient to know how he had fared with the horrible Gaston de Mauxville. When I heard the front door slam, I ran downstairs in time to see Binky trudging wearily up toward me.

“Well?” I said.

He sighed. “I met with the fellow. An absolute cad, I’m sure, but I fear the document is genuine. It certainly looked like Father’s handwriting to me, and it’s been witnessed and sealed too. The rotter wouldn’t let the original out of his possession, but he’s given me a copy to show our solicitor in the morning. Frankly I’m not too hopeful.”

“Why don’t you call his bluff, Binky? Tell him he can have Castle Rannoch. Tell him you’re glad to get rid of it. He wouldn’t last a week there.”

“But that wouldn’t work at all,” he said. “He’s not interested in living in the place. He’s going to sell it—turn it into a school or a golfing hotel.”

“A school maybe,” I said. “It would take considerable improvements before anyone would actually pay to stay there.”