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good. “Not an especially inspiring sight, I’m afraid. I come from a long but proud family in which bow-legs prevail. You’re right about the castle. It is real, all right. And haunted, they say.”
    “Stop it,” I said. I lowered my voice. “And please don’t say that to Alicia Richardson. She’s still trying to get over her experience with that crazy man.”
    “I understand. Is the food to your liking?”
    “It’s wonderful. Haunted?”
    “According to some folks.”
    “Your relative, the descendant of that witch, Isabell Gowdie? Is she this supposed ghost?”
    “I think so.”
    “Have you ever seen this ghost?”
    “No.”
    “What do others say she looks like?”
    “A lovely lady dressed all in white. But with a cross carved into her throat. The blood sometimes runs from the slashes and down over the front of her white gown. Sometimes it doesn’t. She has orange eyes.”
    “It’s cold in here,” I said.
    “I’ll get you a sweater.”
    “No thank you. No need. An internal chill.”
    “I’m so glad you’re here, Jess. We must find some time together—alone. To talk.”
    “I look forward to that, George. I think I’d better mingle with my friends. They consider me their tour guide.”
    “I can’t think of a better one.”
    “By the way, Ken Sassi—he’s the fishing guide—wants to know when he and I can find a day on the stream.”
    “I’ll check with the gillie.”
    “Gillie?”
    “Fishing guide. We call them gillies. There’s a few good ones in town. I’ll check out where they’re biting, what sort of bait to use, that sort of thing.”
    “We don’t use bait,” I said. “We use artificial flies.”
    “Sorry, but I don’t fish. Excuse the inaccurate nomenclature. I’ll let you and Ken know first thing in the morning.”
    Eventually, we went to our rooms. Mine was in the front of the castle overlooking the central courtyard. It was a magnificent suite, large and airy, with a fireplace already blazing, a canopied king-size bed, old original oil paintings on the walls, massive antique furniture, and a small mural stair leading up to a cramped room barely high enough to stand up straight.
    The bathroom featured an enameled copper bath and one small continental commode, as well as a large French provincial armoire, and an English serpentine-fronted chest of drawers.
    “Heavenly,” I said aloud as I took it all in. My bags had been unpacked, and everything was neatly hung in the armoire. A large basket of fruit and sweets and a bottle of champagne were tempting.
    I spent a half hour gazing out the window. It was now dark; small exterior lamps cast tiny pools of light over the front door and along the gravel drive.
    I freshened up and dressed for dinner. Pleased with the way I looked, I left my room and ventured down the long, wide hallway leading to the stairs. When I reached them, I stopped to admire a painting on the wall. As I did, a stream of very cold air touched my skin. I turned to see whether a window had suddenly been opened. That’s when I saw her, a tall, beautiful woman dressed all in white. She stood in the hallway staring at me with eyes the color of copper.
    “Hello?” I said softly.
    That’s when I saw the red stain growing on the bodice of her gown.
    I gasped.
    “Gie a heize.” The voice was soft and low, ethereal.
    “What?” I said.
    She was gone.
    “Wait,” I said.
    I was alone in the hallway.

Chapter Five
    “Are you all right, Jessica?” Seth Hazlitt asked when I walked into the dining room. “You’re as pale as a sheet.”
    “I’m—I’m all right, Seth. It’s just that—”
    “Yes?”
    “Nothing. I thought I saw something that obviously wasn’t there.”
    “Seein’ things, are you?”
    I smiled. “A sign of advancing age?” I looked around the huge dining room. “Looks like you and I are the first.”
    “Ayuh. Seems that way.”
    The dining room defined splendor. It was paneled in cherry wood; an ornate Italian frieze ran the