“As it turned out, yes, it was a mistake, Lord Buntingdon. I frankly admit it. But the arrival of those six cars packed with what I understand are all members of a Scottish terrorist society was not to be foreseen by anybody. Without them you would have reached the Castle at the moment when our fourth assault was successful and you would have received from the hands of MacDonald our Magna Charta. Who would have dreamed you would be captured on the road with your guard of honour?”

“Well, well, it can’t be helped, Mr Buckham. And at any rate we did obtain from Mr MacDonald a promise that the whole business should be kept out of the Press.”

“Yes, in consideration of a document signed by you, Prew, and myself accepting full responsibility for that outrage on August 12th, compensation to MacDonald’s employees for wrongful imprisonment, and what is worst of all a solemn pledge that no member of the N.U.H. will ever camp again on the land of MacDonald or this Mr Cameron’s land or the land of that most objectionable Yankee.”

“Still, I do comfort myself with the thought that the whole business will be kept out of the Press,” Lord Buntingdon repeated gratefully. “I hope your chin isn’t hurting you very much.”

“Oh no, it’s nothing and I console myself with the thought that it took half a dozen of them even to do that amount of damage.”

“A curious type, that Highland chief,” Lord Buntingdon observed pensively. “I’m glad we don’t get that kind of thing in Bedfordshire. A man like that would be a great nuisance on the Bench. Well, well, I shan’t be sorry to get back to my tortoises. By the way, are we expected to wait for the members to reach Fort William?”

“Oh no, Prew has been left in charge of the return to London.”

The President and the Acting President relapsed into silence as the car turned out of Glenbogle.

Back in the Castle the victory was celebrated with such a feast as Mrs Ablewhite, protesting all the time to Mrs Parsall that it was impossible, loved to provide.