Hamish perked up, visibly so, at the word mausoleum. Would this little adventure be more in his wheelhouse than originally expected?

“Come out, my dear,” he called in answer, echoing the younger lad’s opinion. “A dram of whiskey might do you some good!”

It would not hurt to be hospitable, regardless of what the “thing” was. Still, in spite of his optimistic outlook, he nonchalantly added, “And you as well, Miss Hill—why don’t you come back over here?”