Damian acknowledged the barb with a slight tilt of the head but went on, undaunted. “How did you find out about the treasure, sir? The elders refused to share their secret with the previous laird. Why did they share it with you?”
A mischievous gleam lit Sir Percy’s blue eyes.
“They didn’t share their secret with me,” he replied. “They shared it with Mr. Shuttleworth. Mr. Shuttleworth was a soft-spoken, amiable chap who spent two weeks on Erinskil four years ago. Mr. Shuttleworth was a keen walker and a huge fan of kittiwakes and puffins. He was an excellent listener, too.”
“Why are you talking about him in the past tense?” I asked. “Has he passed away?”
“You see him before you, my dear.” Sir Percy stood to take a sweeping bow. “I never consider a purchase until I know exactly what I’m buying. When I first laid eyes on Erinskil, I knew it was too good to be true, so I returned as Mr. Shuttleworth to carry out some reconnaissance work. Mr. Shuttleworth could give our young celebrities a lesson or two in the art and science of disguise.”
“I’ll be damned,” Damian muttered.
“I’m truly not as daft as I look,” Sir Percy said with mock earnestness. “Mr. Shuttleworth was every bit as affable as Peter and a hundred times more cynical than Cassie. It took him less than ten days to put two and two together. As you’ve told me so often, Lori, there are no secrets in a village, and what is Erinskil but a seagirt village?”
I gazed at him with unrestrained admiration. “You’re amazing, Percy.”
“Not I, my dear,” he responded. “The people of Erinskil are amazing.”
“Yes, they are,” I agreed, on a gurgle of laughter. “They’ve learned to spin gold into wool!”
Twenty-one
Sir Percy stood to survey the elders. “I believe our meeting has reached its natural conclusion, gentlemen. There’s nothing more to say.”
The elders murmured their assent. Chairs were returned to their original positions, and glasses were left for Mrs. Gammidge to clear away. Although the elders treated Damian and me politely, they continued to regard us with a faint air of disquiet, which was understandable. We were unknown quantities. There was no reason for them to trust us.
They did, however, trust Sir Percy. They were prepared to believe him when he promised yet again that Damian and I would never breathe a word of what we’d heard to anyone—except Bill, who, Sir Percy vowed once more, was unimpeachable. With that, and a last wee dram of single-malt, they had to rest content.
The storm raged unabated, and the lights flickered, then came back on while the elders were taking their leave of Sir Percy.
“I’m sure the castle’s beds are comfortable, your lairdship,” said Pastor Ferguson, “but we’d like to get back to our own. We’ll make use of the cars, though, if the offer’s still open.”
“Of course it is,” said Sir Percy. “Think I’d send you home on foot on such a filthy night?”
“We’ll be off, then,” said the pastor. “Thank you for a most . . . er, unusual evening, your lairdship. We know the way out.”
Sir Percy, Damian, and I shook hands with each of the elders as they filed from the library, as if we were in a receiving line at a wedding. I was afraid that Sir Percy would invite us to put the seal on our unusual evening by joining him in yet another nip of whiskey, but he had mercy on us.
“Time for bed,” he announced as thunder sounded overhead. “Past time, if truth be told. I hope my storm doesn’t keep you awake.”
“Nothing will keep me awake,” I asserted.
“Sir Percy,” said Damian, with a preoccupied air, “I’d like to know—”
“Enough,” Sir Percy interrupted in a magisterial rumble. He grasped us each by an elbow and hustled us toward the doorway. “It’s two o’clock in the morning, Damian. Quench your insatiable curiosity until after you’ve had some rest. Run along, now. I’ll snuff the candles.”
“Yes, sir,” said Damian.
As I stepped across the threshold, I paused, turned, and went up on tiptoe to kiss Sir Percy on the cheek.
“Good night, your lairdship,” I said. “Your people are lucky to have you.You’re a good man and a good manager.”
“I’m an all-around good fellow,” Sir Percy acknowledged buoyantly, and closed the door in our faces.
The sound of the storm dropped instantly to a distant rumor. The corridor’s thick, windowless walls insulated us from the sound-and-light show that seemed set to continue until dawn. Although I was beginning to droop with fatigue, I strode toward the elevator in high spirits. I was looking forward to sharing every detail of the night’s adventure with Aunt Dimity, who would be as delighted as I was to learn that Cassie’s suspicions could be tossed out with the trash. I was also looking forward with great anticipation to swapping my hiking boots for a pair of soft and supple bedroom slippers.
“We were wrong, wrong, wrong!” I crowed. “Ain’t it great?”