“Only one thing,” he said. “I wanted to ask Mr Menzies if he’d ever designed a dungeon from which a contortionist couldn’t escape until the man who put him there let him go.”

“No, I can’t say I ever have, Mr Royde.”

“Get busy, Mr Menzies, and design one. That dungeon and a biggish room to hang up stags’ heads in are all I want. Mrs Royde’ll let you know what she wants.”

“A dungeon, Chester?” his wife exclaimed.

“I want Mr Menzies to design me the finest dungeon that was ever built. I want a dungeon that’ll make Sing Sing look like a bandbox,” said Chester Royde sternly.

“A dungeon rather suggests you would like to carry on the tradition of the earlier Scottish architecture before it was so much influenced by the French alliance,” said the architect. “I have as a matter of fact a sketch here of a building which would certainly suit the scene here and yet is as modern as some of the latest work of the functional school. The only thing is that it would mean pulling down the present residence altogether.”

“Let’s have a look at this sketch,” said Chester.

Robert Menzies produced from his portfolio a water-colour of a severe and massive keep defying the surrounding bens.

“That is the way it will appear from the north,” he explained. Then he produced another sketch. “And this is how it will appear from the south.”

This aspect showed as much glass as the other aspect showed of stone.

“In summer all these windows would slide back like this,” the architect went on, and produced another sketch which transformed the southerly, south-westerly, and southeasterly aspects of the keep into tiers of loggias.

“I haven’t worked out the details,” he continued. “So much depends on the number of rooms you want, but my aim would be to expand vertically rather than horizontally, in the way that New York itself has expanded. Referring back to that dungeon, I think you will see the strength of any dungeon in a building like this. However, I’m afraid I’m wasting your time with a fantasy, for of course I realize that a place like this is not practical.”

“Why not?” Chester Royde snapped.

“It would cost too much to build.”

“How much?

Robert Menzies shook his head.

“I could not say exactly. So much would depend on the size and the number of rooms.”

“Well, I’d want to be able to entertain about a dozen guests,” said Chester Royde. “And I’d want a big central hall and a library and a big dining-room and a room for Mrs Royde and a room for my stags’ heads, and say sixteen bedrooms.”

“That would mean at least four lifts.”

“Four what?”

“Four elevators,” Carrie put in.