"I shouldn't think anyone could see you, real or otherwise, hidden out here," remarked Hamish.

Felicity ignored him.

"How much do I owe you for the eggs?"

"No charge today."

"Oh, thank you. You are just too, too kind."

Felicity whipped up the box and disappeared out of the kitchen door.

"That one's got you for a sucker," remarked Hamish.

"Aw, she's chust the wee bit o' a thing. Needs building up. Will you check up on Tommy Jarret for me, Hamish?"

"I'll do it now," said Hamish. "Won't be a minute. I've got a phone in the car, although thae mobiles can be a pain. The number of places in the Highlands where they won't work!"

He went out to the police Land Rover and picked up his mobile phone and dialled police headquarters in Strathbane and got through to Jenny McSween, nicknamed the Keeper of the Records.

"Wait a minute, Hamish," said Jenny. "I'll just feed that name into the computer."

Hamish leaned against the side of the Land Rover and waited, enjoying the feel of the sun on his face. The three holiday chalets were hidden behind screens of birch trees to give the occupants privacy. Through the flickering leaves of birch he could see Felicity's pale face at a window.

Then Jenny's voice came on the phone. "Thomas Jarret, arrested last year, for possession of ecstasy and cannabis. Got off a pushing charge. Said they were for his own use and since only small amounts were found, he got away with it. Arresting detective, Jimmy Anderson, thinks he was pushing but couldn't make anything stick. Thomas Jarret was or is a heroin addict, you see."

"I see," said Hamish bleakly. "Thanks, Jenny."

He went back into the croft house and told Parry what he had learned.

"I'll haff that cheil out on his ear," growled Parry. "I cannae thole drugs."

"Let's go and have a word with him," said Hamish. "He may be reformed. I'm all for giving folks a break."