‘First I want to visit the house she told me so much about, pay my respects . . . and then,’ said Marnie simply, ‘with the money she left me, if it’s at all possible, I might be interested in buying it. Is it for sale?’

The old man rubbed his chin. ‘Well, it is and it isn’t. It’s not on the market as such. It belongs to a cousin of the family, a Mr Ian Drummond, who lives in Canada. He has no family of his own so I don’t know what will happen when he dies. He sold part of the estate a long time ago but he wouldn’t sell the castle. I think he was sweet on Lucy when he was a lad. Well, we all were to some degree,’ he said rather sadly. ‘I think he felt she should have had the property when Sandy, her brother, was killed, but her parents couldn’t find it in themselves to forgive her. Verra, verra sad. Ian Drummond leased the castle out twice, first as a hotel and then as a nursing home, but neither venture was a success. The company who ran the hotel wanted to buy it, and I dare say if they’d owned it they would have made a success of it, but Ian Drummond wouldn’t sell so they wouldn’t continue to lease it. The nursing home was never going to flourish. It’s too remote here and they couldn’t get the staff – or the patients either, come to that. So it’s been empty for several years now.’

‘What kind of state is it in?’ asked Christopher.

‘We-e-ll.’ The old man drew the word out and shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s deteriorating all the time, of course, as unoccupied buildings do, but it’s no so bad when you consider that it’s unheated and unlived in. Structurally it’s reasonably sound. Mr Drummond pays me something to give an eye to it – there’s nothing I can physically do myself, of course, but I get the local builder to take a look at the roof once a year and check it out. The biggest fear is that it might get vandalised. So far it’s been fortunate to escape that.’

‘It seems such a waste to leave it to crumble away,’ said Marnie indignantly. ‘I’m surprised it hasn’t been snapped up as a private house.’