‘Archie swore to us that no one ever came here, and the second day a confounded great car arrives. Charles and I had just time to nip in here and lock the door, while Archie parleyed with them. He’s been uncommon quick about it. The brutes didn’t stay for more than five minutes.’

‘Who were they?’ Leithen asked.

‘Only got a side glance at them. They seemed to be a stout woman and a girl – oh, and a yelping little dog. I expect Archie kicked him, for he was giving tongue from the drawing-room.’

The door opened to admit their host, who bore in one hand a large whisky-and-soda. He dropped wearily into a chair, where he sipped the beverage. An observer might have noted that what could be seen of his wholesome face was much inflamed, and that a bandage round chin and cheeks which ended in a top-knot above his scalp gave him the appearance of Ricquet with the Tuft in the fairytale.

‘That’s all right,’ he said, in the tone of a man who has done a good piece of work. ‘I’ve choked off visitors at Crask for a bit, for the old lady will put it all round the countryside.’

‘Put what?’ said Leithen, and ‘Who is the old lady?’ asked Lamancha, and ‘Did you kick the dog?’ demanded Palliser-Yeates.

Archie looked drearily at his friends. ‘It was Lady Claybody and a daughter – I think the second one – and their horrid little dog. They won’t come back in a hurry – nobody will come back – I’m marked down as a pariah. Hang it, I may as well chuck my candidature. I’ve scuppered my prospects for the sake of you three asses.’

‘What has the blessed martyr been and done?’ asked Palliser-Yeates.

‘I’ve put a barrage round this place, that’s all. I was very civil to the Claybodys, though I felt a pretty fair guy with my head in a sling. I bustled about, talking nonsense and offerin’ tea, and then, as luck would have it, I trod on the hound. That’s the worst of my game leg. The brute nearly had me over, and it started howlin’ – you must have heard it. That dog’s a bit weak in the head, for it can’t help barkin’ just out of pure cussedness – Lady Claybody says it’s high-strung because of its fine breedin’. It got something to bark for this time, and the old woman had it in her arms fondlin’ it and lookin’ very old-fashioned at me. It seems the beast’s name is Roguie and she called it her darlin’ Wee Roguie, for she’s pickin’ up a bit of Scots since she came to live in these parts . . . Lucky Mackenzie wasn’t at home. He’d have eaten it . . . Well, after that things settled down, and I was just goin’ to order tea, when it occurred to the daughter to ask what was wrong with my face. Then I had an inspiration.’

Archie paused and smiled sourly.

‘I said I didn’t know, but I feared I might be sickenin’ for smallpox. I hinted that my face was a horrid sight under the bandage.’

‘Good for you, Archie,’ said Lamancha. ‘What happened then?’

‘They bolted – fairly ran for it.