Only Time Will Tell (The Clifton Chronicles, #1)(85)

‘When I jump out,’ said Giles, ‘just follow me, and then do exactly as I do.’ Harry nodded.

The taxi swung round the corner and slowed down for a moment just as Giles opened the door. He leapt out on to the pavement, toppled over, quickly picked himself up, then dashed into the nearest shop, throwing himself on the floor. Harry followed only seconds later, slammed the door behind him and was lying by his friend’s side just as the second cab shot around the corner.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked a sales assistant, hands on hips, looking down at the two young men lying prostrate on the ground.

‘You already have,’ said Giles, rising to his feet and giving her a warm smile. He brushed himself down, said ‘Thank you,’ and left the shop without another word.

When Harry stood up, he came face to face with a slim-waisted mannequin wearing only a corset. He turned bright red, ran out of the shop and joined Giles on the pavement.

‘I don’t expect the man with the limp will be booking into the Royal for the night,’ said Giles, ‘so we’d better get moving.’

‘Agreed,’ said Harry as Giles flagged down another cab. ‘Waverley station,’ he said before climbing into the back.

‘Where did you learn how to do all that?’ asked Harry in admiration, as they headed back in the direction of the station.

‘You know, Harry, you should read a little less Joseph Conrad and a little more John Buchan if you want to know how to travel in Scotland while being pursued by a fiendish foe.’

The journey to Mulgelrie was considerably slower and far less exciting than the one to Edinburgh had been, and there was certainly no sign of any man with a limp. When the engine finally dragged its four carriages and two passengers into the little station, the sun had already disappeared behind the highest mountain. The station master was standing by the exit waiting to check their tickets when they got off the last train that day.

‘Any hope of getting a taxi?’ Giles asked as they handed over their warrants.

‘No, sir,’ replied the station master. ‘Jock goes home for tea around six o’clock, and he’ll nae be back for another hour.’

Giles thought twice about explaining the logic of Jock’s actions to the station master, before he asked, ‘Then perhaps you’d be kind enough to tell us how we can get to Mulgelrie Castle.’

‘You’ll have to walk,’ said the station master helpfully.

‘And which direction might it be?’ asked Giles, trying not to sound exasperated.

‘It’s about three miles up yonder,’ the man said, pointing up the hill. ‘You cannae miss it.’

‘Up yonder’ turned out to be the only accurate piece of information the station master had offered, because after the two of them had been walking for over an hour, it was pitch black and there was still no sign of any castle.

Giles was beginning to wonder if they were going to have to spend their first night in the Highlands sleeping in a field with only a flock of sheep to keep them company, when Harry shouted, ‘There it is!’

Giles stared through the misty gloom and although he still couldn’t quite make out the outline of a castle, his spirits were lifted by flickering lights coming from several windows. They trudged on until they reached a massive pair of wrought-iron gates which had not been locked. As they made their way up the long driveway Giles could hear barking, but he couldn’t see any dogs. After about another mile they came to a bridge spanning a moat, and on the far side, a heavy oak door that didn’t look as if it welcomed strangers.

‘Leave the talking to me,’ said Giles as they staggered across the bridge and came to a halt outside the door.

Giles banged three times with the side of his fist, and within moments the door was pulled open to reveal a giant of a man dressed in a kilt with a dark lovat jacket, white shirt and white bow tie.

The head steward looked down on the weary, bedraggled objects that stood in front of him. ‘Good evening, Mr Giles,’ he said, although Giles had never set eyes on the man before. ‘His lordship has been expecting you for some time, and wondered if you would care to join him for dinner?’





40




LORD HARVEY handed the telegram to Giles and chuckled. ‘Sent by our mutual friend, Captain Tarrant. He only turned out to be wrong about what time you’d arrive.’

‘We had to walk all the way from the station,’ protested Giles between mouthfuls.

‘Yes, I did consider sending the car to meet you off the last train,’ said Lord Harvey, ‘but there’s nothing like a bracing Highland walk to work up a good appetite.’

Harry smiled. He’d hardly spoken since they’d come down for dinner, and as Emma had been placed at the far end of the table he had to satisfy himself with the occasional wistful gaze, wondering if they’d ever be left alone together.

The first course was a thick Highland broth, which Harry finished a little too quickly, but when Giles was served a second helping, he also allowed his bowl to be refilled. Harry would have asked for a third helping if everyone else hadn’t continued making polite conversation while they waited for him and Giles to finish so that the main course could be served.

‘There’s no need for either of you to be anxious about anyone wondering where you are,’ said Lord Harvey, ‘because I’ve already sent telegrams to Sir Walter and to Mrs Clifton, to assure them you are both safe and well. I didn’t bother to get in touch with your father, Giles,’ he added without further comment. Giles glanced across the table to see his mother purse her lips.