Free Aiding and Abetting by Muriel Spark Page A

already looking over the top of the menu. There was no sign of a single man vaguely resembling the monk who had been seen into the station wagon. From where they sat it was difficult to see everyone around the bar which stretched away into a more public salon.
    Lacey glanced out of the window behind her. It was raining, now. Two or three people and a couple were making towards their cars. One man in particular drew her attention. He was putting on a dark-green waterproof short jacket, and got into a white car. He was not the man they were looking for but it now occurred to Lacey that it was quite possible the suspect Lucan had changed cars. It would be possible to do so between Caithness and Inverness, and certainly not difficult for a man of Lucan’s resources. She remarked on this to Joe. He, in turn, observed that the further south they went the less likely were they to find their man. “And besides, he might have gone directly south after leaving Benny’s place,” said Joe.
    “But you know Betty Kerr said he was going north. That might mean the monastery. He was very close to Ambrose in his younger days, according to my mother,” Lacey said.
    Smoked salmon was on the menu and so were lamb chops. Joe pointed this out. “Sounds delicious,” said Lacey. “That’s my choice.” Around them people at the other tables were being served mainly fish and chips or large salads piled with eatables covered with mayonnaise. Joe, too, chose smoked salmon followed by lamb cutlets, mainly out of love for Lacey. He was in fact so taken with this charming young woman now in his life that he didn’t care very much what he ate. He didn’t care very much about finding Lucan, except to make Lacey happy. In the quite authentic glow of their new love affair they did not focus their full attention on the comings and goings of the other customers. However, when they were served their second course of cutlets with green peas, Joe said to the waitress, “Is the smoked salmon followed by lamb in great demand today?”
    “Oh, yes,” she said, “it’s always a good combine.” Driving south, maddeningly slow on the road, was a white Ford, quite unusual enough a car in those parts. It was driven by a whitish-haired man who, from behind, might have been their man. They were aware that the amusement of guessing the possibilities of tracing Lucan rather outweighed the possibilities themselves. There were many alternative routes to the south of Caithness.
    But it was definitely fun. The new lovers were in the mood for fun. Still, the car driving so slowly (why slowly?) in front of them was an exciting fact. The driver wanted them to pass, and in spite of numerous bends and dips that made passing inadvisable, they could sometimes have done so. But Lacey, who was at the wheel that afternoon, didn’t do so. She kept doggedly behind the white Ford which kept doggedly at its almost funereal pace, much to the fury of the traffic behind them, which passed both cars as best it could.

Unknown
    “Whoever’s in that Ford knows we’re positively following him,” said Lacey.
    They were approaching a tall wall surrounding a large house. Ahead were a number of people dressed in their best clothes for a wedding. The Ford slowed down even more. It glided towards the huge gates with heraldic designs picked out in gold surmounted by a pair of legendary creatures in stone. The white car caused a few young giggling men and women to make way for it as it swung into the drive. As Joe and Lacey passed they could see on the lawn in front of the house a huge marquee. Loud voices and soft music completed the scene of the wedding. Joe and Lacey drove on.
    The tall, white-haired stranger made his way over the lawn to the thronging mass of joyful guests, the men in their formal clothes, and occasionally kilts, the women in their smart outfits with big black hats, at least five hundred people. At the far end of the marquee the bride and groom could be seen with