“Of course, Mr. Barrington, as long as we’re not on the ward.”

“Good, and I’m Stone.”

“Stone you shall be.”

Stone took a breath to speak, but she held up a restraining hand. “Before you start interrogating me, I have questions for you,” she said.

“Fire away,” Stone replied.

“There are all sorts of rumors about you and why you were training here.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Who are you, and why were you training here?”

“Do we have enough whisky, or should we order more? This is going to take a while.”

“More, please.”

Stone crooked a finger at the proprietor and signaled for more whisky. “Now,” he said, after the man had complied, “I am Stone Barrington, as it says on my chart. I am an American . . .”

“Well, there’s a shock,” she said mockingly.

“. . . from New York City, on the northeastern seaboard of our Atlantic coastline.”

She made a motion for him to continue.

“I am an attorney at law, by profession. Although, after attending university and law school, I became a New York City police officer, serving mostly as a homicide detective for fourteen years, before I was invalided out, after a bullet wound to a knee.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Rose said. “Americans fire guns at each other, don’t they?”

“On widely separated occasions,” Stone replied. “It was the only time I was ever fired upon.”

“I assume, being an American, you drew your own gun and killed your assailant. Isn’t that also what Americans do?”

“I did draw my weapon and fire it, but missed. However, my partner, who was a much better shot than I, killed my assailant.”

“And what are you doing in the far reaches of the Scottish Highlands?”

“I have an acquaintance who is a high-ranking member of MI-6, and . . .”

“That would be Dame Felicity Devonshire, the director.”

“How did you know that?”

“Well, there were, as I said, rumors—that and the fact that you were driving her motorcar when you decided to take a swim. If you weren’t friends, you’d have been driving a stolen vehicle and would now be reposing in a dank Scottish gaol, instead of this cozy inn.”

“You have superior powers of deduction,” Stone said.

“Once again, why were you training here, and for what?”

“I have, from time to time, done business with MI-6. And Dame Felicity, on an occasion when we had both taken strong drink, suggested—no, she dared me to do the course. With the reward being that I was allowed to drive the Aston back to civilization. I foolishly agreed. And when I had sobered up, she wouldn’t let me off the hook.”

“Are you perfectly serious?”

“Perfectly.”

“So you came up here and spent a week running about the Highlands, competing with a lot of twenty-two-year-olds?”