At the Castle, he was escorted to the Colonel's private apartments. Wrightson was waiting from him. He smiled apologetically.
'Nothing serious, Faro. Nothing to worry about. Do sit down. Have a drink.'
Faro did as he was bid and with a whisky in hand tried to suppress his impatience. He had too much on his mind to be in a mood for the trifling details of a break-in at the Castle that any of his constables could have dealt with efficiently.
'...in this room, but nothing was taken, as far as we can see,' the Colonel went on. 'In fact, we wouldn't have known that there had been a break-in except that the man was spotted leaving the room. He wasn't in uniform and when challenged, took to his heels. It was then my man gave the alert. I came immediately -'
Faro was looking round the room. With trophies on every shelf, every inch of wall space occupied by paintings and army group photographs, it would be extremely difficult at first glance to know if anything was missing. His glance wandered to the massive desk, awash with books and documents.
Wrightson followed his gaze and nodded. ‘I suspect that the desk was the target.'
At Faro's questioning look, he continued, 'Well, there was one drawer - over here.'
Faro saw that the lock bore marks of a sharp instrument being used on it. 'Is there anything missing?'
Wrightson wriggled uncomfortably. 'That I can't honestly say.'
Faro looked at him. 'Surely you know what the drawer contained, sir?' And when the Colonel looked blank, he prompted: 'Documents, for instance, perhaps of a secret or confidential nature?'
The Colonel laughed. 'No. That's what's so odd. I think he must have broken open the wrong drawer. There are such papers - here - and here - ' He indicated several drawers. 'But this one is where I keep my mementoes and stationery. Everything relating to my years serving Her Majesty at Holyrood, I just thrust in there. Not a bit of use to anyone, that I can assure you.'
'Nothing of value, then? You are certain of that?'
The Colonel smiled. 'Only to me. You see, Faro, I'm a bit of a hoarder, can't bear to throw anything away. I kept all the menus, notes from Her Majesty, memos - ribbons off cakes. Everything and all purely sentimental things.'
'You wouldn't by any chance have a list of the contents?' Even as he asked Faro realised that was a forlorn hope.
At his bleak expression, Wrightson shook his head. 'I'm not a list man. I'm sorry, Faro, I've really wasted your time,' he added apologetically.
'Not at all, sir,' said Faro gallantly, as he considered that was precisely what Wrightson had done. 'Who has access to these rooms, sir?'
'None of my men, if that's what you mean. There's tight security about that. Officers' quarters, strictly out of bounds.'
'So none of them could come in here without your knowledge?'
The Colonel shook his head. 'Or without my batman. He accompanies any soldier - or officer - who has reason to seek an interview. And they wouldn't be left alone by him, not for a minute, if that's what you're hinting at.'
'Have there been any such interviews recently?'
'None at all.'
'When was the last time this room was occupied by anyone other than yourself and your batman, sir?'
Wrightson thought for a moment. 'The other evening, at the dinner party, why, you were here, Faro. Remember, we all had drinks before going in.'
Faro shook his head. 'I missed that part of the proceedings, sir. Unavoidably detained, I arrived late.'
Wrighton gave him an indignant look. 'Wait a moment, Faro. What are you getting at? Not suggesting that one of my guests would go though my desk when my back was turned -1 hope.'
'I'm only saying that your friends are the only persons with access to this room apart from your batman.'
'Well!' Wrightson gave a shout of indignation. 'I don't have those kinds of friends, that I can assure you, sir. The very idea.' Suddenly speechless, he continued to regard Faro angrily, his face scarlet, outraged by such a suggestion.
'It's my duty to ask such questions, sir, unpleasant though they may be for you,' Faro added in what he hoped was a mollifying tone. 'I'm not insulting your friends, merely endeavouring to investigate the burglary you have reported.'
'I see, I see,' said Wrightson impatiently.
'I need to know whether you've had anything of value stolen. The man who was apprehended might well have been a civilian who sneaked in out of curiosity - or bravado - got lost and found himself in this part of the Castle - '
But even as he said it, as he hoped in firm and convincing tones, Faro didn't believe it and neither, he suspected, did Wrightson, although he was prepared to accept this as a possible explanation.
As Faro rose to leave, the Colonel said, 'My apologies for bringing you here on a wild-goose chase.'
'Not at all, sir. If civilians are involved then it is our business to protect you.'
Wrightson thought for a moment. 'I did wonder at first, if this might have something to do with that other attempted break-in - from the outside. Remember, Faro, more than a week ago?'
The same thought had been in Faro's mind. He could see no connection between the two events but the idea was vaguely disturbing.
He left the Castle feeling that he would much rather have had a proper burglary to investigate, with a few silver trophies taken and a few clues to follow, than an apparently motiveless petty crime.
The possibility of a passer-by overcome by curiosity was too remote and yet oddly sinister in its simplicity. Secret and confidential documents for sale to foreign powers seemed the most plausible reason.
Faro sighed. At least with silver trophies and items of value, there existed a list at the Edinburgh City Police of what they called 'the usual suspects', criminals to be rounded up from the notorious warrens of Wormwoodhall in Causewayside. But from their number, few violent men would risk breaking into the well-guarded officers' quarters in the Castle merely to open a drawer in Wrightson's desk full of sentimental royal mementoes. This certainly did not bear the mark of any of the city's well-kent criminal hierarchy, who all left recognisable trademarks.
As the carriage headed towards Waverley Station through the torrential rain, Arthur's Seat was obliterated by mist. Faro wished the incidents of that morning could as readily be dissolved, but one thought in particular refused to be banished.
Was it significant that Miss Fortescue had suggested that the coachman had drowned? Did she know a great deal more about the events of that night than she was prepared to disclose? If so, in common with those who knew too much about assassins, she might well be in mortal danger.
Chapter 13
'Not another train till six o'clock, sir,' said the railway guard cheerfully, as Faro, dashing to the barrier, watched the North Berwick train steaming out of the station.
Slowed down by the appalling condition of flooded roads from the Castle, he'd missed it by seconds. And now he made the discovery that his boots were leaking. This damned rain!
Leaving the empty platform, cursing Edinburgh's foul weather, he decided he might as well return to the Central Office and log his interview with Colonel Wrightson about the break-in. He set off at brisk pace towards the High Street, to be caught in yet another downpour.
'Where in damnation is it all coming from?' he demanded of McQuinn, who was leaving in the police carriage, heading for Liberton. The young sergeant took pity on his bedraggled appearance.
'Why don't you get some dry clothes, sir - we'll drop you off at the house.'
Faro was glad to accept, and as they drove in the direction of Newington, in answer to his question, McQuinn said: 'Nothing to report, sir. Thought you were going to Aberlethie?'
'There was an attempted break-in at the Castle -'
As Faro related his meeting with the Colonel, McQuinn listened sympathetically.
'Doesn't sound like one of our lads, sir. Doubt if rounding them up would do any good.'
'Complete waste of time, I'd say,' Faro agreed.
Opening his
front door a few minutes later, Faro realised that the house was unusually silent without Mrs Brook's bustling presence. Her niece was getting married in Dundee and she had been persuaded, very much against her will, to take a couple of days off.
Swept off balance by a false step on the hall carpet, he cursed again, sniffing the air. Mrs Brook refused to take seriously his warnings about putting carpets on highly polished floors. Certain that the whole structure of 9 Sheridan Place would collapse in her absence and her two gentlemen die of neglect, she had once again been over-generous with the beeswax.
Changing his boots and taking the damp ones down to the kitchen, Faro looked into the larder. It was filled to overflowing with covered and labelled dishes complete with neatly written menus for each meal.
He stood back, exasperated by such efficiency. He deplored waste, and the prospect of tackling what appeared to be enough provisions for a whole regiment on a month-long siege made him feel guilty.
The room was suddenly lit by a flash of lightning. As thunder rumbled angrily back and forth across the sky, like a dialogue between two ill-tempered giants, Faro gave up any idea of travelling to Aberlethie and back again. He had had quite enough for one day. Tomorrow morning his best boots would be dry, and hopefully the rain which had persisted all day would have worn itself out with its continued efforts.
The decision made, he sat down at the kitchen table with a slice of cold pork pie before him, suddenly charmed at the novelty of having the house to himself. He couldn't remember the last time, if ever, this agreeable experience had occurred.
Discovering that he had an appetite and was hungrier than usual at this hour of the day, he was attacking a second slice of Mrs Brook's excellent fruit cake when the front doorbell clanged through the house.
As it jangled noisily a second time, he decided to ignore it. Doubtless some tradesman was seeking Mrs Brook. Resentful at having his peaceful meal interrupted by this intrusion, he was taking another bite of cake when conscience told him that the caller might be a patient in urgent need of Dr Laurie's attention.
In Vince's absence, such cases were referred to a retired colleague in Minto Street. Now, where was the card?
The doorbell had clanged vigorously a third time when he found it on the mantelpiece, and hoping he wasn't too late, he ran upstairs.
On the doorstep, he was taken aback to find, not a frantic patient, but Miss Fortescue.
Tm so glad to find you at home, Inspector. I called at the Central Office and they told me you had left -'
She was obviously very agitated, staring back over her shoulder, nervously searching the street in the manner of one who suspects she is being followed. And Faro almost expected to see the Lethie servant hovering at a discreet distance.
'I had to see you, Inspector.'
'Won't you come in?'
Her travelling cape was almost as wet as her umbrella. He wondered if this was a planned departure from Lethie Castle -the word 'escape' came to his mind unheeded, for she carried a straw-lidded travelling basket, the kind favoured by ladies on short summer expeditions.
Releasing her from her cape he said: 'I'll take this down to the kitchen, miss. It'll soon dry out on the stove.'
As Mrs Brook's highly polished floor threatened to claim its second victim, he seized her elbow, apologised and pointed her in the direction of the drawing-room: 'Take a seat if you please, miss. I'll be with you directly.'
He put out his hand for the travelling bag. Shaking her head firmly, she smiled up at him.
'I'm sorry to be a nuisance. I did get rather wet waiting for a carriage at the station. They were all claimed immediately they arrived. I'm afraid I haven't quite the knack of rushing forward and arguing with strong men brandishing stout waking-sticks.'
'It's always like that in bad weather, miss,' said Faro, surprised that she hadn't come in the Lethie carriage.
When he said so, she shook her head. 'No, I came by train. I left them a note. You see, Inspector, I'm quite desperate. I'm not a very patient person. I must take matters into my own hands. And do something,' she emphasised.
It all seemed very courageous, thought Faro, but hardly what he expected. And more important, what precisely did she expect him to do? He had problems enough without a distressed lady-in-waiting on his hands.
'I need hardly tell you, Inspector, I am utterly weary of sitting out there at Lethie listening to Terence and Sara assuring me that everything is going to be all right.'
She looked at him steadily and added slowly, 'When I am absolutely sure now that something has gone terribly wrong. Otherwise, news of some sort should have reached me by now. Don't you agree?' And without waiting for his answer: 'Of course the Lethies have been so good and kind. They're very patient and conscientious, especially as they are leaving for a family wedding in Paris at the end of the week.'
Pausing, she regarded him helplessly. 'We haven't discussed what will happen to me in their absence, what arrangements they have made.'
What indeed, thought Faro. She could hardly be returned to Solomon's Tower and the hospitality of Sir Hedley Marsh, that was for sure.
'I felt I couldn't just sit in that empty house a moment longer,' she continued, shaking her head vigorously, 'I am used to an active life, you know. Routine, and all that sort of thing. I must confess I am terribly bored by all this enforced idleness - sitting waiting for news is very disagreeable for one's nerves. Each time a servant comes in or a rider appears on the drive, one's hopes are raised and then dashed severely to the ground again. I feel like a prisoner, waiting to be released.'
She sighed, looking at him expectantly.
Faro's murmur of sympathy seemed to encourage her and she went on: 'While they were out visiting this morning, I decided I must try to - well, escape for a while. I was so longing to see something of your lovely city. So I left them a note and caught the train at the halt.' Staring ruefully at the streaming windows, she added: 'I hadn't bargained for the weather, of course. It was dull but still fair when I left this morning.'
As Faro listened, he was grateful for the missed train to North Berwick that had saved him a futile visit to Lethie Castle.
'- I've had a perfectly splendid day,' Miss Fortescue went on. 'Princes Street is a delight, such lovely shops. And I didn't mind getting wet. Rain like this is something of a rarity in Luxoria. And we are never allowed to get wet -'
Faro was wondering how he was expected to respond to this burst of enthusiasm when she sighed deeply, troubled no doubt by thoughts of her royal friend and companion.
'We're all doing as much as we can, miss, to find your mistress,' he reminded her gently.
Straightening her shoulders, she said sternly, 'And that is precisely why I am here, Inspector. I am absolutely certain that she must have reached Her Majesty by now. That was the prime intention of this visit. Lethie was to be an overnight stay only, renewing old acquaintance with - with my family who have served hers so well. Why then has there been no word to them - or to me? She is such a thoughtful person, I assure you. She cares deeply about her friends and those who serve her.'
Again she looked at Faro, who could think of no answer beyond nodding in agreement.
'I keep thinking of her sitting in Balmoral Castle - at this very moment, Inspector, perhaps believing that I was drowned that awful night. Do you think it is possible, as I suggested to you, that she has sent word to Lethie Castle and some misfortune has befallen the messenger? Have you any means of finding out?
When Faro didn't respond, she put a beseeching hand on his arm. 'I must find her. Please, Inspector - you must take me to her. She will be so relieved to know that I am unharmed.'
Faro stared at her, at a loss for appropriate words. Or any words, in fact. His hesitation was mistaken and she went on hastily: 'Oh, I'm not reproaching you in any way, Inspector, please don't think that. I do regard your efforts most highly. I'm sure you have our best interests at heart. Indeed,' she added with an engagingly shy smile, 'I think of
you as a friend almost.'
Faro bowed, and playing for time and some suitable response to Miss Fortescue's proposal, he removed the fireguard and attempted to light the fire which Mrs Brook had set in readiness. As it smoked dismally, he said: 'I'll just go and see how your cape is drying, miss. If you'll excuse me.'
She smiled. 'I imagine that your wife is used to such weather and dealing with emergencies like drying wet garments.'
'I'm not married, miss.'
'Oh, I'm sorry.' She looked round with a puzzled frown. 'Then you have a very good housekeeper - this room has a woman's touch.'
'That is so. This is her day off. However, I shall endeavour to make you a cup of tea.'
Having put on the kettle, he returned to find her looking out of the window. 'This is such a pretty house, Inspector. I love these small rooms. Such lovely windows and what a delightful view,' she said, pointing across to the commanding mass of Arthur's Seat.
Faro suppressed a smile. The rooms with their high ceilings could only be classed as small by comparison. 'Hardly what you're used to in a palace, miss.'
'I know. But it's all so charming. Palaces are hateful places to live in, I assure you. There is so little comfort, vast rooms with inadequate fires to heat them, miles and miles to walk every time one wants something that isn't there.' She clasped her hands delightedly. 'I would give anything to live in a little house like this.'
'Excuse me, miss - the kettle -'
When he returned, she was sitting close to the dead fire, her arms clasped tightly together.
Faro sighed. 'I'm afraid that's beyond redemption, miss. It is chilly in here.'
Politely she suppressed a shiver. 'Just a little.'
'It's warmer in the kitchen, miss, a good fire down there. Would you care -'
'I would indeed.' And seizing her bag, she followed him downstairs. There her admiration of his home now extended to Mrs Brook's domain. She looked around at shelves and cupboards as if she had never encountered a kitchen before, exclaiming with delight over gleaming brass saucepans and rows of china plates.
[Inspector Faro 14] - Faro and the Royals Page 28