“I believe they have decided it is safer to stay in a hotel,” Fig said with what could only be taken as a triumphant look. It did cross my mind to wonder whether she might have tampered with the lavatory tank in her desperation to get rid of unwanted guests.

“So our little house party is dwindling,” Binky said. “Is the Simpson woman going to stay on?”

“As long as the Prince of Wales is within driving distance,” I said.

Binky grinned. “And how about you, old bean? I hear you had quite an ordeal yesterday. Fully recovered?”

“Oh yes, thank you. It was rather frightening at the time. I thought I’d had it.”

“I should speak to Harris about not checking those ropes.” Harris was the head gillie. “After all, it’s his job to make sure they are sound.”

“But Prince George brought the rope with him from Balmoral,” I said. “I’m going over there today, if I can have a car.”

“Don’t see why not, do you, Fig?”

She tried to come up with a good reason why I couldn’t use her petrol, but in the end she had to nod. “No, by all means. Go and join the shoot. It will do you good. I’d go too if I weren’t stuck here as hostess.”

“And Binky, there’s one other thing.” I paused near the doorway. “This Hugo Beasley-Bottome. Tell me about him.”

“Not much to tell,” Binky said. “He was a new boy in my house at school when I was prefect. A skinny little runt at the time. Got bullied a lot so I stepped in. He was dashed grateful. But I haven’t seen anything of him since I left school. I was surprised when he wrote and asked to come and stay, but one can’t say no to a fellow old boy.”

I went back to my room to change into something suitable for Balmoral. A skirt in the Rannoch tartan (rather disgusting mixture of red, yellow and brown) and white blouse. On my way to the garages I sought out Harris, our head gillie. He was an old man with a shock of white hair and skin like brown leather, and he was busy sorting out fishing tackle.

“Would you take a look at this,” he said, holding up a reel of twisted line to me. “The mess they make of things. You’d think they’d never fished in their lives before.”

“They probably haven’t,” I said. “I wanted to ask you about the rope that broke on the climb yesterday.”

“Aye, I heard about that,” he said, nodding seriously. “Verra nasty business, my lady.”

“It was. Did you have the rope stored here overnight?”

“No rope ever went out from this place,” he said. “I don’t know who put together the equipment for yon climb, but it was not I.”