Page 71 of The Secret Castle in the Highlands

‘But you don’t know that for definite, do you?’ I challenged. ‘What if this Gideon Kelly is connected to the Scarlet Highwayman? Maybe he knew him or was his father; he could even be the Scarlet Highwayman…’

‘You’ve been watching too many re-runs of The Twilight Zone.’ Mason’s voice sounded like he was smiling. ‘You’re letting your imagination run riot.’

‘And you’re seeing everything in only black and white.’

He tutted. ‘Er, yes, because I’m a historian and that’s my job, remember?’

‘Not everything can be explained,’ I argued down the phone. ‘I know you only deal with facts, but don’t you think this is really odd?’ I shook my head as I gripped my mobile. ‘I’m sure the messenger was the same person you chased away from your car.’

Mason was quiet as he listened.

‘And what about the second name you hinted at?’ I pushed. ‘Any luck with him?’

Mason let out a disappointed grunt. ‘Timothy Stephens was employed at the estate as a stable hand, but he passed away from tuberculosis just before the highwayman began his so-called reign of terror.’

‘Right. Okay. Have you been to the cemetery yet?’ I asked him.

‘No. Why?’

‘Let’s go up there tonight and have a look at this Gideon Kelly’s grave for ourselves.’

‘Jeez, Poppy,’ snorted Mason. ‘You want to go to the graveyard this evening? You really know how to show a guy a good time.’

Chapter Thirty-Two

Port Starr’s cemetery was situated just on the outskirts of town and within view of the rearing beauty of McKerron Castle. Mason and Darwin picked me up after I dashed back to the annexe for a quick change of clothes.

I was brushing my hair when Mason’s deep voice rang out through the door. ‘Taxi for Ms Summers.’

‘I’ll be right there.’

I straightened my glittery T-shirt, snatched up my bag and locked my door, then hurried down the cobbles in my Converse trainers.

Mason was leaning against his car looking more like he’d stepped from the cover of a historical romance than a historian. Darwin’s head was sticking out of the back window, his long pink tongue flapping.

Mason straightened up when he saw me. ‘You look very pretty.’

‘Oh. Thank you.’ My hand shot up and scooped some hair behind my ear. ‘You look very dashing.’

For a moment I could have sworn he was blushing. ‘I do my best.’ He gestured at my hair. ‘You don’t often have your hair loose. It suits you.’

I examined my pink-and-white trainers. Now it was my turn to feel awkward.

‘Right,’ he exclaimed, clapping his hands together, ‘let’s go and take a look at this grave. Have you eaten yet?’

I shook my head. ‘I managed to grab a banana and a peppermint tea before I closed up shop, but nothing else.’

‘That’s not enough for a growing girl. Okay. We’ll get something after we’ve been to the cemetery.’

Soon, Mason was pulling into the cemetery car park, which had a moss-covered stone wall snaking all the way around it and several overhanging ash trees, with their clouds of frothy branches.

‘We won’t be long, Darwin,’ promised Mason, winding down the other rear window. ‘Stay there, that’s a good boy.’

Darwin didn’t look impressed at not being allowed to accompany us. He slumped down on his blanket along the back seat.

Mason pulled up a plan of the cemetery on his mobile.

I leaned in a little, fascinated, to take a closer look. Mason stared down at me. When I glanced up at him, he flicked his eyes away to focus again on the map.