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'That's right. I think he's having breakfast. What's Max up to, Paul? Where has he gone?'

He told her everything in a few brief sentences and when he had finished, she nodded, looking strangely grave. 'Surely there's something we can do? He must be stopped.'

'He will be if I've got anything to do with it,' Chavasse said. 'Where's the nearest telephone--the library?'

'There isn't one,' she said.

'Are you sure?'

She nodded. 'I thought it was strange, but when I mentioned it to Max yesterday, he said he was here for peace and quiet, not to have the phone ringing at all hours.'

'Is there any other vehicle in the garage besides the two Land Rovers?'

She shook her head. 'Not a thing. Why?'

'Oh, I had a wild idea that somehow we might have reached the Mallaig road in time to warn those Germans about Donner's ambush.'

She frowned slightly. 'Isn't the road to Mallaig in the next valley?'

'That's right.'

'Then the only way to get there would be to drive to the head of the glen and go through the pass. That must be all of ten miles.'

'What are you getting at?'

'Wouldn't it be quicker to go over the top on foot?'

Excitement and hope surged through him and he grabbed her hand. 'I'm not sure, but we can have a damned good try.'

When he opened the door to the passage which led to the kitchens, it was still and quiet, but somewhere there was a sudden scratching and the dog whined. Chavasse pushed Asta along the passage quickly and they went out into the courtyard.

It was beginning to rain again and the top of the great ridge which divided the two glens was covered in mist. They went round the side of the house to the lawn at the rear and crossed the bridge over the stream.

On the other side, the path lifted steeply through a small wood, emerging into a heather-covered clearing perhaps fifty yards across, the slopes beyond covered with pine and alder trees. Below them was the panorama of the valley, Glenmore House beside the stream and beyond it the meadow Donner used as an airstrip, the red and silver Beaver parked at one end.

As Chavasse and Asta came out of the wood into the clearing, Hector and Rory Munro moved out of the trees some twenty or thirty yards to the right. The old man carried a brace of pheasant and his shotgun was tucked under his arm. Chavasse caught Asta's arm to pull her back, but he was too late.

The Munros stood quite still, looking down the slope towards them and Chavasse said in a low voice, 'Ignore them--just keep going. No reason why they should interfere.'

And then a cry lifted high in the morning air and when they turned and looked down to the house, Stavrou was standing in the courtyard looking up towards them, the Doberman straining at its leash.

'Stop them!' he called. 'Bring them back!'

At the same moment, one of the Land Rovers turned into the courtyard, braked to a halt and Donner jumped out.

Hector Munro dropped the pheasants and both he and his son reached into their pockets for cartridges. Chavasse pulled out the Smith & Wesson and fired once, high above their heads, sending them back into cover.

He urged Asta across the clearing and as they reached the shelter of the trees, lead shot whispered through the branches and below, in the courtyard, the Doberman gave an unearthly howl as Stavrou slipped its leash.

They started to run, following the slope, pushing upwards through dripping ferns until they emerged on to a wide, boulder-strewn plateau. A few yards away, a track swung east, climbing the slope of the great hog's-back in a gradual curve.

Asta started forward and Chavasse grabbed her arm. 'We wouldn't get a quarter of a mile before that damned dog caught up with us. How's your climbing?'

'Only fair.'

'That'll have to do. Come on.'

On the far side of the plateau, the slope was volcanic in origin, split and fissured into great blocks of stone forming a giant's staircase. Chavasse ran towards it, Asta at his heels and as they reached the first tilt of stone, the Doberman came over the edge of the plateau behind them.