“Scottish Nationalists? I regard Scottish Nationalists as worse than hikers. To me they hardly appear human. They should be stamped out like vermin. But what do you want to know about Scottish Nationalists?” he asked, suspicion suddenly dimming his choleric blue eyes.

“Why, I was reading somewhere the other day about their objects, and I wondered if you had interested yourself in the movement at all.”

“Movement? Did you say movement, Mrs Royde? If you call foul subterranean squirming movement, well, I suppose you can call Scottish Nationalism movement. But it’s not my idea of movement. I like something healthy and above ground.”

Carrie became pensive. If Ben Nevis was capable of treating sixteen male and female hikers as he had, what was he capable of doing to these two members of the Scottish Brotherhood of Action now camping in Glenbristle? She must warn them to-morrow. She ought to warn them tonight, but that was hardly feasible. She looked across the table at Myrtle, who was evidently not at all interested by Murdoch MacDonald’s company next her. If she took Myrtle into her confidence … at that moment Ben Nevis gulped down the rest of his soup and turned to Myrtle.

“I’m sending a cable to my boy Hector to-morrow morning, urging him to get a spot of leave and fly home. I want you to meet him very much. The trouble is I’m not sure whether he’s stationed at Tallulahgabad or Bundalpore. I know he expected to be moved from Tallulahgabad to Bundalpore pretty shortly. Do you think the Clanranalds will have moved to Bundalpore yet, Murdoch?”

“Don’t know at all,” said the naval Lieutenant.

“If you send it to Tallulahgabad they’ll probably forward it on to Bundalpore, Dad,” Iain suggested.

“That’s a good idea of yours, Iain. What do you think of that, Murdoch?”

“I think it’s quite sound,” the naval Lieutenant allowed cautiously.

“I mean to say, it would be jolly to get old Hector back here for a little stalking, wouldn’t it? Well, I’ll cable to Tallulahgabad. You approve of that idea of Iain’s, Myrtle?”

“Why, surely,” said Myrtle, with what Carrie thought was too obvious a wink at herself.

“You think that’s a good idea, Mrs Royde?”

“I think it’s a terribly good idea, Ben Nevis. But what I don’t think is at all a good idea is for you to call Myrtle Myrtle and me Mrs Royde. What has poor Carrie done?”

“That’s very nice of you, Mrs … I mean, Carrie,” said the Chieftain, gurgling benignly.

“I was afraid I’d offended you by asking about Scottish Nationalists.”

“What are they?” Murdoch asked.

“Ghastly people,” said Iain. “I saw two of them hiking up the glen the day before yesterday.”

“You saw two Scottish Nationalists hiking up Glenbogle?” Ben Nevis gasped.