‘I’ll tell him you’re here.’ The ferret opened a door on the right and they heard her say: ‘Those folk who phoned have arrived.’

They couldn’t hear what was said in reply, but: ‘He’ll see you,’ she said, turning round and looking, they thought, disappointed. She indicated the door with a nod of her head, sniffed again and disappeared down the passage.

‘Hmm. Friendly type,’ murmured Christopher, winking encouragingly at Marnie. He tapped on the door and then held it open for her and rather nervously she led the way in.

The room smelled faintly musty. A stout old man with a white frill of hair round his shiny pate was sitting in a wing chair by the fire. A copy of the Scotsman was resting on his considerable stomach. Marnie thought he looked like an elderly Friar Tuck. Unlike his niece, he greeted them with a welcoming smile.

‘Come in, come in,’ said the Reverend Donald McBain. ‘It’s not often I get unexpected visitors nowadays. This is indeed a pleasure – you’ll forgive me if I don’t get up. I’m getting a wee bit slow nowadays.’ He spoke in an unhurried, lilting voice, and Christopher didn’t think he looked as if urgency had ever been his forte anyway. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you rang. It’s rare for me to be away the now, but I had to go to Edinburgh for a couple of nights. You’re enquiring about the castle, I believe? Miss Fergusson of Tillydrum has called this morning to ask me if I will try to be of assistance to you.’

‘Oh, how very kind of her!’ exclaimed Marnie, touched that Evelyn should have taken so much trouble.

‘I understand you knew Contessa Martinelli – Miss Drummond that was – Lucy-Anne Drummond. Now there’s a name from the past!’

‘Don’t tell me you knew her!’ It seemed too much to hope for.

‘I did indeed. My father was minister here before me, so the children from the castle or “the big hoose”, as we called it then, and the children from the manse – well, we were all bairns together. I’m eighty-nine now and Lucy would have been about a year older than me, and her brother Alexander a couple of years older than that.’ He laughed. ‘Och! But they were demons, those two! The tales that were told of their exploits – but everyone on the estate loved them. It was a sad day when Lucy ran away to Italy and an even sadder one when Alexander was killed.’ He shook his head. ‘The old couple never recovered. Now, tell me how you came to know her.’ So Marnie told her story yet again.

‘And what is it you’re wanting now?’