For a moment I think we were all rather stunned. I know I was. The sheriff recovered first. “Stupid fool,” he said. “Where does he think he can go? He can’t get out and he can’t hide for long. We’ll have dogs here soon and we’ll track him down.”

We followed him to the front door. There was no sign of Juan, who must have already disappeared into the trees. The sheriff rushed over to the telephone, bawling out instructions. He looked satisfied when he returned to us. “The truck with the dog handlers is already on its way,” he said, “and I’ve alerted the guys at the gatehouse to have their weapons ready. Shoot to kill if necessary. Well, I guess that’s all we can do for now. I don’t know about you, but I need my breakfast.”

We followed him through to the dining room where Belinda, Ronnie and one of the deputies were tucking into a hearty meal.

“These pancakes are jolly good.” Belinda looked up as we came in.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, but I felt too sick to eat. I’d heard the words “shoot to kill.” Whatever Juan had done, he had felt he was justified. I suppose I might have felt that way if vandals had taken big chunks of Castle Rannoch. My problem is that I’m too softhearted. I can often see the criminal’s point of view. I looked across at Bella, who had also helped herself to a plate of eggs, pancakes and bacon. She had no such sensibilities. I wondered what would happen to her now—would Darcy have the authority to take her home in handcuffs to face trial? I wondered how soon he would return and wished he hadn’t gone on a wasted journey.

I was just managing to nibble a piece of toast when the telephone rang. One of the deputies went to answer it.

“That will be our boys arriving at the gate,” the sheriff said, a large hunk of ham poised on his fork.

But then the deputy came hurrying back. “You’re wanted on the telephone, sir,” he said.

We heard his big boots echoing on the marble floor. Then we clearly heard, “Damn it. The goddamned fool. What does he think he can achieve with that? I’ll get men onto it right away.”

And at the same moment the front door burst open and Craig Hart came in, still wearing a striped silk bathrobe. “I smelled smoke,” he said.

“That damned Spaniard seems to have started a fire just inside the gate area,” the sheriff said. “I don’t know what he thinks he can do. Does he expect everyone to rush out of the gatehouse so that he can slip out?”