A pleasant, rather overweight woman in her fifties bustled in with tea and scones on a tray, which she placed on a mahogany table. "Shall I pour?" she said, and like Angus her accent was Highland.

"Don't fuss, Jean, I'm sure Miss Bernstein is quite capable. Off you go."

Jean smiled, picked up a shawl which had slipped to the floor, and put it around the old woman's shoulders. Hannah went and poured the tea.

"So," Lady Katherine said, "your employer is Brigadier Charles Ferguson, is that what you said?"

"Yes. He was wondering whether there might be a chance of renting Ardmurchan Lodge for the shooting. I did contact your agents in London but was given to understand that the big house was leased."

"Indeed it is, an Arab Prince no less, a dear man with several children who keep descending on me. Far too generous. He sends me food I can't eat and bottles of Dom Perignon I can't drink."

Hannah put her cup of tea on a side table. "Yes. I heard he was in residence for another month and after that an American gentleman."

"Yes, a Mr. Morgan. Scandalously wealthy. I've seen his picture in the Tatler magazine playing polo with Prince Charles. His lawyer flew up to see me just like you in a jet plane. He's taken the place for three months." She didn't bother with the tea. "There are some cigarettes in the silver box. Get one for me, there's a dear, and help yourself, if you indulge." She held it in a hand that shook slightly. "That's better," she said as she inhaled. "Clears my chest. Anyway, to business. Ardmurchan Lodge is free and has full sporting rights. Deer, grouse next month, then fishing. There are two bathrooms, five bedrooms. I could arrange servants."

"No need for that. The Brigadier has a manservant who also cooks."

"How very convenient. And you'd come too?"

"Some of the time at least."

"The Brigadier must be as wealthy as this American, what with private airplanes and so forth. What does he do?"

"Various things on the international scene." Hannah hurried on. "I was telling your gardener what a thrill it was for me to be here. I first heard of Loch Dhu when I was a young girl from my mother's father. He was an army officer during the Second World War and served on Lord Louis Mountbatten's staff in the Far East." She was making it up as she went along. "Gort was his name, Colonel Edward Gort. Perhaps your brother spoke of him?"

"I'm afraid not, my dear. You see, Ian was involved in a dreadful air crash in India in forty-four. He was only saved by the courage of his batman, Jack Tanner, a man who'd grown up with him on the estate here. My brother was hospitalized on and off for years. Brain damage, you see. He was never the same. He never talked about the war. To be frank, the poor dear never talked much about anything. He wasn't capable."

"How tragic," Hannah said. "My grandfather never mentioned that. I believe the last time he saw him was in China."

"That must have been before the crash."

Hannah got up and poured more tea into her cup. "Can I get you anything?"

"Another cigarette, my dear, my only vice and at my age, what does it matter?"

Hannah did as she was told, then walked to the French window and looked out from the terrace at the great house in the distance. "It looks wonderful. Battlements and turrets, just as I imagined it would be." She turned. "I'm a hopeless romantic. It was the idea of the Laird of the Clan, as my grandfather described it, that intrigued me. Bagpipes and kilts and all that sort of thing." She came back. "Oh, and there was another rather romantic side to it. He told me that Major Campbell always carried a silver Bible with him that was a family heirloom. He'd had it at Dunkirk, but the story was that all the Campbells had carried it into battle for centuries."

"You're right," she said. "It was certainly in Rory Campbell's pocket when he died at the Battle of Culloden fighting for Bonnie Prince Charlie. It's interesting that you should mention it. I haven't thought about that Bible in years. I suppose it must have been lost in the plane crash."

"I see," Hannah said carefully.

"Certainly nothing survived except poor Ian and Jack Tanner, of course." She sighed. "I just heard the other day that Jack died in New York on a visit to see his daughter. A good man. He ran things on the estate for me for years. The new man, Murdoch, is a pain. You know the kind. College degree in estate management so he thinks he knows everything."

Hannah nodded and got up. "So, we can have Ardmurchan Lodge?"

"Whenever you like. Leave me the details and I'll have Murdoch send you a contract."

Hannah was already prepared for that and took an envelope from her handbag, which she placed on the table. "There you are. The Brigadier's office is in Cavendish Square. I'll find Angus, shall I, and get him to run me back to the plane?"

"You'll find him in the garden."

Hannah went and took her hand, which was cool and weightless. "Goodbye, Lady Katherine."

"Goodbye, my dear, you're a very lovely young woman."

"Thank you."

She turned to the French window and Lady Katherine said, "A strange coincidence. When that lawyer was here he asked about the Bible, too. Said Mr. Morgan had mentioned reading about it in an article on Highland legends in some American magazine. Isn't that extraordinary?"

"It certainly is," Hannah said. "He must have been disappointed it wasn't on show."

"That was the impression I received." The old woman smiled. "Goodbye, my dear."

Hannah found Angus digging in the garden. "Ready to go, Miss?"

"That's right," she said.

As they walked round to the front, a Range Rover drew up and a tall, saturnine young man in a hunting jacket and a deerstalker cap got out. He looked at her inquiringly.

"This is Miss Bernstein," Angus told him. "She's been seeing the Mistress."

"On behalf of my employer, Brigadier Charles Ferguson," she said. "Lady Katherine has agreed to rent the Ardmurchan Lodge to us."

He frowned. "She didn't mention anything to me about it." He hesitated, then put out his hand. "Stewart Murdoch. I'm the estate factor."

"I only spoke to her this morning."

"Then that explains it. I've been at Fort William for two days."

"I've left her full details and look forward to receiving the contract." She smiled and got into the station wagon. "I must rush, there's a Lear waiting for me at Ardmurchan. We'll meet again, I'm sure."

Angus got behind the wheel and drove away. Murdoch watched them go, frowning, then went inside.

The Lear took off, climbing steeply, rising to thirty thousand feet rapidly. Hannah checked her watch. It was only just after two. With luck she'd be at Gatwick by three-thirty, sooner with a tailwind. Another hour to reach the Ministry of Defence. She picked up the phone and told the co-pilot to patch her in to Ferguson.

His voice was clear and sharp. "Had a good trip?"

"Excellent, sir, and the lease on Ardmurchan Lodge is in the bag. No luck with the Bible. The lady hasn't seen it in years. Always presumed it was lost in the plane crash."

"Yes, well we know it wasn't, don't we?"

"Looks like we're in for a sort of country house weekend treasure hunt, sir."

"You mean Morgan is, Chief Inspector."

"So how do we handle it?"

"I don't know, I'll think of something. Come home, Chief Inspector, I'll look for you at the office."

She put down the phone, made herself a cup of instant coffee, and settled back to read a magazine.

When she reached the Ministry she found Ferguson pacing up and down in his office. "Ah, there you are, I was beginning to despair," he said unreasonably. "And don't bother to take your coat off, we can't keep the Prime Minister waiting."

He took down his coat from the stand, picked up his Malacca cane, and went out and she hurried after him, slightly bewildered.