On dangerous ground

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. Ha

"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."

Ha

"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." Ha

"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 Ta

"How tragic," Ha

"That must have been before the crash."

Ha

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

Ha

"You're right," she said. "It was certainly in Rory Campbell's pocket when he died at the Battle of Culloden fighting for Bo

"I see," Ha

"Certainly nothing survived except poor Ian and Jack Ta

Ha

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

Ha

"You'll find him in the garden."

Ha

"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," Ha

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

Ha

"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. Ha

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 begi

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