By the time the train pulled into Edinburgh Waverley, Giles had gone over his plan with Harry a dozen times. They stepped out of the carriage and walked slowly down the platform towards the barrier.
‘Don’t even think about looking back,’ said Giles as he produced his rail warrant, then headed towards a line of taxis.
‘The Royal Hotel,’ said Giles to the cabbie. ‘And can you let me know if another taxi follows us?’ he added before joining Harry in the back.
‘Right you are,’ said the cabbie, as he eased off the rank and joined the traffic.
‘How do you know there’s a Royal Hotel in Edinburgh?’ asked Harry.
‘There’s a Royal Hotel in every city,’ said Giles.
A few minutes later the cabbie said, ‘I cannae be sure, but the next cab off the rank isn’t far behind us.’
‘Good,’ said Giles. ‘How much is the fare to the Royal?’
‘Two shillings, sir.’
‘I’ll give you four if you can lose him.’
The driver immediately put his foot down on the accelerator, causing both of his passengers to be thrown back into their seats. Giles recovered quickly and looked through the back window to see the taxi behind them had also speeded up. They had gained sixty or seventy yards, but Giles realized that advantage wouldn’t last for long.
‘Cabbie, take the next turning on the left and then slow down for a moment. After we jump out, I want you to continue on to the Royal and don’t stop until you reach the hotel.’ An outstretched arm appeared. Harry placed two florins into the palm.
‘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?’