“My theory is the poor chap’s sprained his ankle,” he declared, in a tone that Einstein might have used to announce his Theory of Relativity.

“But, Ben Nevis, why should he have sprained his ankle?” Carrie asked.

“He may have been a bit confused by his kilt. It was the first time he’d worn a kilt, remember. Of course, he may have broken a leg.”

“But if he’d sprained his ankle or broken his leg,” Carrie argued, “surely he’d have been able to call for help. There were so many people about.”

“But he may have wandered off into the hills.”

“What would he do that for?” Myrtle objected. “He hasn’t gone wandering off up into the hills any other day.”

“Ah, but he wasn’t wearing the kilt,” Ben Nevis pointed out sagaciously. “I’m sure it was the feeling of freedom the kilt gives a man that made him walk further than he meant. We’ll find him all right. He can’t have walked very far.”

“I saw him leave the field round about half-past five,” said Kilwhillie, without adding that the sight of that orange kilt moving off the field had removed a weight from his mind.

“I know,” said Ben Nevis, “he was annoyed by those hikers. They would keep coming up and staring at him. It was I who advised him to go back to the Castle. He wanted to hit one of them, but I explained that on the day of the Gathering Glenbogle was Liberty Hall and that I even gave a welcome to hikers. He understood my point of view perfectly and said he wouldn’t hit any of them.”

“Perhaps one of them followed him off the field and he did hit him,” suggested Catriona.

“Oh no, Catriona,” Carrie said positively. “If Chester gave his word to your father that he wouldn’t hit one of them, you can be sure he wouldn’t. Chester never breaks his word, does he, Myrtle?”

“Only in Wall Street. Never in private life, of course,” Myrtle replied.

“Ah, well, business is different,” said Ben Nevis. “Breaking your word is what business really means.”

“Hullo, Dad, you’re getting very cynical,” Hector barked affectionately.

“What I was going to say,” Catriona managed to interpose, “was that if Mr Royde had hit one of the hikers the others might have set on him.”

“Don’t believe it. Don’t believe it,” the Chieftain scoffed. “Don’t believe hikers would have the courage to set on anybody. Look at the miserable resistance they offered to us the other day on Drumcockie.”

“I must say I think you were very lucky, Ben Nevis, not to be involved in any unpleasant legal business,” said Colonel Lindsay-Wolseley, who was one of those who had stayed on to dinner at the Castle.