“And that’s set Mrs Ablewhite off again, ma’am. She’s withdrawn the withdrawal of the month’s notice she gave me after Mr Toker brought word that dinner was over before the creme brulée she’d made was served. And that’s how matters stand. As soon as I tell Florrie and Maggie to go back to their rooms they just sit down on the floor and scream. And they’ve nothing on but their nightdresses and bare feet.”

“Dear me, Mrs Parsall, I’m afraid you’re having a very difficult time with the staff.” Mrs MacDonald sighed. “Which room are Florrie and Maggie in?”

“They sleep in the room off the passage that leads to the door down into the dungeon under the North Tower. That’s the trouble. It seems that the body of a hunchbacked pedlar who’d been murdered and robbed in the glen was hidden in this dungeon a hundred years ago or more, and the silly girls think it’s this hunchback that’s after them, though as I said to them whatever did they think he’d want to chase them for even if it was his ghost and which of course is nonsensical. But I do not want Mrs Ablewhite to leave us, ma’am, and if she gets ghosts on top of all her other worries, that’s what she will do.”

“I wonder if some chamomile tea …” Mrs MacDonald began.

“You’ll excuse me, ma’am,” the housekeeper interrupted impatiently, “but things have gone beyond anything chamomile tea can do. I dislike causing you trouble, ma’am, but the only thing is for you to come down to my room and try and alleviorate matters a little.”

Mrs MacDonald rose with a sigh.

“Very well, Mrs Parsall. I’ll see what I can do. It would be sad if Mrs Ablewhite left us.”

“It would indeed, ma’am. Mrs Ablewhite has her faults. We all of us have if it comes to that, but take her all in all we should find it very hard to replace her.”

The Lady of Ben Nevis and her housekeeper were on the way to the latter’s room when down the stairs from the corridor leading to the room in the North Tower appeared Carrie and Mr Fletcher, both of whom were covered with cobwebs, and Chester Royde.

“Mr Royde! You’ve been found!” Mrs MacDonald boomed.

“Mr Fletcher and I found him,” Carrie said proudly. “The hikers had shut him up in the dungeon, and we heard him shouting for help.”

“There’s your ghost, Mrs Parsall. I think you can put matters right now.” Mrs MacDonald sighed with relief. “And ask Mrs Ablewhite to be kind enough to send up some dinner for Mr Royde, and particularly some of her always delicious creme brulée. He must be famished. Unless of course you think it wiser to arrange something for Mr Royde without consulting Mrs Ablewhite.”