Free The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter by Ian Todd Page A

about in these parts, wearing nothing but a nightie and in her bare feet at that time of the morning, eh?”  Whitey asked.
      “That’s the kind of thing that holidaymakers do, Whitey.”
      “Anything else you can remember, Paul?” Whitey asked, turning fae Innes, ignoring him.
      “Aye, she wis wearing a pair ae John Lennon glasses.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Nine
      “PC McTavish, m’lord,” Nicol announced, staunin aside tae let the Highland’s finest enter the drawing room.
      “M’lord?  Gentlemen?” PC Swein McTavish said oan entering, before staunin, twisting his chequered hat between his hauns in the middle ae the room.
      “Ah-ha, you’ve arrived, McTavish.  Right, tell us what the local constabulary has planned to save my estate from being invaded, plundered and raped by every bla’guard poacher from here to Tongue?” The Duke demanded.
      “Well, m’lord, we…er…myself and my colleague, PC Delnie Morrison, have joined forces to thwart those who would prey on defenceless estates such as your own and have issued a statement through The North Star, The Northern Times and The Ross-shire Journal that poaching of any kind will not be tolerated,” he said, beaming at The Duke, Riddrie and John Sellar.
      “Right, very well, and?”
      “And m’lord?”
      “And, is that it?”
      “Actually, no, m’lord.  What we’ve planned is that if we hear that the poachers are heading north, PC Morrison will intercept them.  If they head south, I’ll be waiting at this end,” he replied proudly, puffing out that chest ae his.
      “Is this the Delnie Morrison who works out of Bettyhill, over to the east of Tongue and only has one leg?”
      “Aye, he caught one in Korea, Mr Sellar, sir.”
      “So, as long as the poachers are on four wheels, he might be able to keep his eye on them, but if they go cross-country on foot, we’ve no-one to cover our northern flank.  Is that right, McTavish?” The Duke asked.
      “Er, if you put it like that, m’lord, there is a good possibility that they may catch us on the hop here and there.”
      “Good God, man! The Highland Games and Gala season is about to start and we’ve got a police constable in Bonar Bridge and a one-legged Korean war hero in Tongue or Bettyhill who can barely walk.  Meanwhile, my hundred thousand acres of prime estate is lying bare-bottomed, waiting to be rogered by every Tom, Dick and bloody Harry and there’s nothing I can do to stop it happening,” The Duke exploded.
      “Not forgetting Mackay…Innes Mackay, m’lord, sitting just along the road, laughing at us,” John Sellar interjected.
      “What?  Mackay, who’s married to the communist?  What about him, Sellar?”
      “If we could take him out, that would be a warning to all the rest that we mean business, m’lord.”
      “I thought we had got rid of him and his heathen wife after he was caught taking one of my salmon from the Shin, Riddrie?” The Duke shouted at his man.
      “Not as yet, m’lord.  The court order to put him off the land was rejected on the grounds that it would be challenging his security of tenure and would fly in the face of the Taylor Commission and the recommendations of the nineteen fifty five Crofters Act, m’lord.  As for the incident with the salmon, I believe he’s still to appear in court for that.”
      “We did manage to get his boat confiscated, though, m’lord,” Sellar reminded him.
      “They’ve got more bloody rights than I have,” The Duke fumed, looking towards the windae fae behind his desk, across the expanse ae the Kyle.
    “Well, it’s not stopped his nocturnal wanderings.  He’s still active and becoming more cocky by the day,” Sellar volunteered.
      “And what do you base this on, Mr Sellar, if you’ll be begging my pardon, sir?” PC McTavish asked, reminding them that the strong-erm ae the law wis still present and ready