“I may do a little shooting myself but I’m particularly going to watch a chum of mine try out his new boat. He’s designed this fiendish contraption with which he plans to break the world water speed record. He’s going to be trying it out on some ghastly Scottish lake, so a group of us decided to come along as a cheering section.”

“Really?” I said. “Where shall you be staying?”

“I’ve managed to wheedle a sort of invitation to a place nearby called Castle Rannoch,” he said. “I was at school with the duke, y’know. I must say the old school tie works wonders everywhere. But I can’t say I’m looking forward to the castle with great anticipation. Positively medieval by the sound of it. No decent plumbing or heating and family ghosts on the battlements. And the live occupants sound equally dreary, but it really will be dashed convenient for all the excitement so I expect I’ll be able to stomach it for a few days. How about you? Where are you staying?”

“At Castle Rannoch,” I said smoothly. “It’s my family home.”

“Oh, blast it.” He flushed bright pink. “Don’t tell me you’re Binky’s sister. I really have bally well put my foot in it, haven’t I?”

“Yes, you do seem to have,” I said. “Now, please excuse me. I don’t want to miss the first sitting at luncheon with the vicars and spinsters.” I spun away from him and stalked off fast in the opposite direction.

The dining room was quite full by the time I arrived, and not just with the threatened spinsters and vicars, but I was found an empty table and handed a menu. I noticed a man seated opposite me staring with interest. He was an older military type—slim, upright bearing and neat little mustache, and I wondered if he made a habit of picking up young women on trains. In fact he half rose to his feet, as if to come in my direction, when he was beaten to it by another man.

“I’m frightfully sorry,” the latter said in high, breathless tones, “but the whole wretched place appears to be occupied so I wondered if you’d mind frightfully if I joined you. I promise that I don’t slurp my soup or drink my tea from the saucer.”

He was the complete physical opposite of the other man—short, chubby and pink, with a dapper little mustache and a carnation in his buttonhole. His dark hair was carefully combed to cover a bald spot. Completely inoffensive in any case and he was giving me a hopeful smile. He could even have been one of the aforementioned vicars, traveling minus dog collar.

“Of course,” I said. “Do sit down.”