I was delighted to re-discover this book which I first read some forty years ago, and I was most impressed to find it as gripping as I had when I was a mere nine years old.
The book recounts the adventures of Alasdair Cameron, a thirteen year old lad living in London with his mother and aunt in about 1955. Alasdair's father had been killed when his battleship sank during World War II. Having had a bad bout of bronchitis Alasdair is packed off to Skye to recuperate, and it is arranged that he will stay in his father's old croft in the village of Achmore. Indeed, unbeknown to him, the coft actually now belongs to Alasdair, though it is currently occupied by the dubious Murdo Beaton, a lugubrious widower who keeps himself very much to himself.
On his journey to Skye ( which McLean descibes with loving care) Alasdait encounters two strange men and gradually realises that one is pursuing the other. The man being pursued manages briefly to shake off his pursuer and clandestinely passes a note to Alasdair, but doesn't have time to offer any explanation before jumping fom the making train. His pursuer goes after him, leaving Alasdair o grapple with the riddle that has suddenly come his way.
The descriptions of Skye are gorgeous, and McLean makes the hillsides come alive, though he never lets the pace of his novel falter. Re-reading this book, and revisiting pat of my own past, was a huge pleasure! ( )