At George's heels was Inspector Crane, looking very self-satisfied indeed. Faro extended his silent thanks and gratitude to him.
George looked around bewildered, as if he could not believe he was safe again. Squaring his thin shoulders, he assured the Headmaster that he was none the worse for his experience and was escorted from the study to be delivered into Matron's care by one of the masters. Begging the Headmaster's permission to leave, Anton trotted after them, obviously eager and anxious to be with his friend.
With no opportunity to question or even speak to George, Faro took Crane aside and asked what had happened.
'We found the lad, tied up and blindfolded.'
'Where?'
'He wasn't far away.'
'He was in the school grounds?' said Faro.
Crane frowned. 'Yes. But how did you know that?'
‘An inspired guess, since there was no carriage involved.'
Inspector Crane nodded. 'Very astute of you, sir. Very astute. We actually found him in the old stable block which was part of Glenatholl House before it was extended into the college.'
'At least he's safe. Were there any clues to the identity of his captors?'
'Not one. However, our investigations continue.' Crane shook his head. 'The gypsy encampment has gone. Packed up, nowhere in the vicinity. We shall of course track them down.'
'You still believe it was gypsies?' said Faro who had never put much store by that particular theory.
'We only know what the young fellowAnton, told us.' He sounded unconvinced. 'Actually we have no records of suspicious persons about the area. The gypsies might steal a few clothes from drying lines, but they are mostly poor ignorant craiters, few can read and write well enough to be able to concern themselves with international politics.'
'Have you taken the accident to the prince's bodyguard into your calculations, sir?' Faro interrupted.
'Of course. But there is no evidence to suggest foul play. An unfortunate coincidence.'
Faro was no believer in coincidences. 'Earlier that evening, he wished to talk to me. I now believe he had some vital information.'
Crane stiffened. 'Had he indeed? The proper authority for such information is the Perth Constabulary, Inspector.' Without waiting for a reply, as the Headmaster approached, he said quickly, 'A bit of a storm in a teacup. Boys will be boys, sir. All's well that ends well. I'll leave it with you, Headmaster. Naturally we'll continue our enquiries and if we find any significant evidence we will let you know.'
And that cliche didn't quite fit the occasion either, as far as Faro was concerned. If the attempt was genuine for all its confusing details, then all was far from well and far from ending. He had an unhappy intuition that it was just about to begin.
Chapter 9
Faro followed Inspector Crane to the door. 'I should like to see this place where the boy was found, if you will direct me to it.'
Crane gave him a sharp glance. 'You would be wasting your time, Inspector.'
Faro bowed. 'Allow me to be the judge of that.'
Crane sighed. 'It has all been taken care of,' he protested. 'Believe me, there is nothing to see. Just an ordinary old disused stable. You have my word that my men are searching every inch of it for any evidence. So far there is nothing.'
Faro was not to be put off. He was determined to carry out his own investigation.
Watching Crane departing somewhat grumpily, Faro observed Reece hurrying across the gravelled forecourt, his manner urgent.
'Exactly the man I want to see,' he said. 'I have received a message from Balmoral. Her Majesty has decided that you are to take charge of the boy, see him safe to Luxoria. The royal train will take you to Dover.'
Faro began to protest but Reece swept aside his interruption. 'There is concern that the death of the prince's bodyguard, Tomas, who was attached to our own secret service, might not have been an accident. He was very loyal to Luxoria.’ And regarding Faro solemnly, 'Her Majesty said there is no man she would rather trust. "I have put my own life in his hands many times." Her very words, sir,' he added reverently.
‘I keep remembering that occasion at Glen Muick. They still talk of how you saved her from assassination.'
That time was long past and belonged to a younger, more enthusiastic Chief Inspector Faro, who had not yet tasted the sweets of retirement. And flattery would get Reece nowhere, he decided.
‘It isn't difficult, sir, the journey, I mean,' Reece pleaded. 'There are quite excellent trains, the Orient Express goes through Germany,' he added eagerly. "You can pick it up in Paris at Gare de l'Est and get off at Stuttgart as the nearest stop to the Luxorian border. They will send a train to meet you.'
He made it sound like a picnic day at Musselburgh, thought Faro, seeing all his easy life of sitting in the garden at Sheridan Place and teaching Jamie to play chess evaporate like mist on the Highland hills above Balmoral.
Regarding his doubtful expression, Reece continued. 'There will be a substantial reward, recognition for royal services from Her Majesty personally,' he added with a significant pause.
Was he hinting at a knighthood? It was an offer which Faro had already declined, much to his stepson's chagrin, as the last thing he had ever wanted or desired.
'As you know, Luxoria is very close to Her Majesty's heart. Anything remotely connected with her late husband, the Prince Consort, is deified. And the Grand Duchess was very closely related to both of them.'
Faro had heard all this before and he wasn't listening. He was trapped and could not refuse a royal command without some legitimate excuse, like ill-health or sudden infirmity.
He sighed deeply. He might as well do his best to please Her Majesty, once again. For the last time. And it might well be his own last time ever.
Then quite suddenly, as Reece rattled on, nervous and eager at his side, Faro's mind began to present a consoling sequence of not unpleasing pictures. Once they reached Germany and he had seen George and Anton safely delivered to the Luxorian border, he could travel on to Heidelberg. Where Imogen waited. Not a bad thing at all.
In fact, the more he listened to Reece, the more it appealed as he realised this was the chance of a lifetime, never to be repeated. The first and last chance he would ever have of spending time with his - with George - a lifetime of getting to know the lad in a few precious days.
And that, come what may, was the deciding factor. He was ready to take on any odds for this unexpected hand destiny had offered him.
He had never expected to see Grand Duchess Amelie again. Now he would return her son to her. If she lived, please God. If she did not, then George was heir to Luxoria.
A wave of paternal pride swept over him. A secret that could never be divulged, but how he would relish hugging it to his heart for the rest of his life.
And so it was all arranged by Reece with military precision.
On the following morning, once George had had time to rest and recover from his ordeal, the royal carriage at Perth Railway Station would be linked with the express from Aberdeen which would convey both boys and Dieter to Edinburgh. There Faro would join the train at midday.
The travellers would include Helga, a servant at the school suggested by Dieter himself. She had left Germany some years earlier and was anxious to return to her now widowed mother.
‘It is an excellent arrangement to have a maid's services. Helga will attend to the laundry and take care of the personal ablutions of the two boys,' the Headmaster told Faro.
Before leaving Glenatholl to catch the Edinburgh train, Faro insisted on inspecting the old stables where George had been found.
He invited Dieter to accompany him and the bodyguard stood around looking bored and rather cross as Faro examined the faintly discernible footprints, for the weather at the time of George's kidnapping had been dry. That was unfortunate. But Faro realised from the evidence that Anton's description of George's captors had been correct. One was a large man wearing heavy boots, the other smaller. The lack of a carr
iage and the use of the old stables seemed to confirm that Crane's suspicion of a practical joke by the boys was correct.
He wished he could believe it.
In Sheridan Place, hastily repacking his valise to include a passport and his revolver, which he prayed he would never have to use, while bravely fending off Mrs Brook's anxieties about how many shirts and sets of underclothes and socks he might need, Faro told Vince and Olivia that something very important had happened.
'I am going to Germany immediately.'
Olivia's immediate reaction was delight at this news. Her face brightened and her expression said more clearly than any words that she believed Faro and Imogen were planning to marry at last. He could only guess at her disappointment as he told Vince of his plans to escort the heir to Luxoria back across Germany. In the interests of sparing them both unnecessary - he hoped - anxiety, he made no mention of the events at Glenatholl which had brought this about, beyond saying that it was Her Majesty's wish.
Olivia looked pleased and proud at that, but Vince, whose chief concern was always his stepfather's welfare, protested.
'Do they know whether the Grand Duchess is still alive? The newspapers have been remarkably silent about the extent of her injuries.'
On his arrival in Edinburgh Faro had visited the special and highly secret department of the City Police whose business was the acquiring of such information.
'They knew nothing. No news was good news, or so they told me,' he said consolingly.
'Are you sure you want to be involved in all this, Stepfather?' asked Vince, unable to keep the anxiety out of his voice.
'I have very little option, lad.' Faro shook his head. 'Even I cannot ignore a royal command.'
'But she knows you are retired,' Vince protested.
'Yes, indeed. How very unthoughtful,' said Olivia. 'A great strain on you.'
'Wait a bit!' Faro protested. 'I'm not exactly decrepit.'
'Olivia is anxious, as I am,' Vince put in sternly. 'Besides, how do you deal with anything when you don't even know the language?'
Faro shrugged. 'I will cross that particular bridge when I come to it, if ever.'
Vince sighed. 'I do wish I was going with you, Stepfather.'
'Since you don't know the language either, we would both be in trouble,' said Faro. While appreciating their concern, his patience was running thin.
'I would very much like to meet this prince,' was Olivia's tactful rejoinder.
"And so you shall, my dear, when you see me off tomorrow,' said Faro, glad of her diversion.
They drove him to the station the next morning, where a very wide eyed Olivia was ushered into the handsome royal carriage which looked so dark and unassuming from its exterior.
She curtsied to the boy, who took her hand and bowed. Anton did likewise, as did Dieter, while Helga curtsied nicely.
Olivia was charmed by George and so was Vince, in spite of himself and his fears. Already he had his suspicions that he had not been told the whole truth and that his stepfather was embarking on no ordinary assignment. Reading between the lines, a matter he had become skilled at in their early days, Vince guessed shrewdly that if some person or persons did not wish the heir of Luxoria to set foot in his native land again, then Faro's mission was perilous indeed.
As they watched the train steam out of the station, Olivia said, 'What a charming boy. I have never met a prince before and George is such a very English name.'
'But it owes its royal origins to the Hanoverians,' said Vince leading the way back to their carriage.
Olivia emerged from her cloud of euphoria. 'He doesn't look in the least foreign, not like the boy Anton. George looks more like, well, a Viking.'
'Precisely,' said Vince drily, for the resemblance to Faro was unmistakable and he hoped no one in Luxoria was aware of the outcome of the Grand Duchess's visit thirteen years ago. How after many barren years the birth of a premature princeling had followed her reconciliation with her husband.
Olivia looked at him wide-eyed. 'You think - oh, surely not - ' And with a gasp of astonishment, 'You mean - '
'Exactly,' said Vince, opening the carriage door. For once he preferred to be a man of very few words. 'And we would be well-advised to keep such thoughts to ourselves, my dear.'
Chapter 10
The royal carriage allocated to the travellers was comfortable but not luxurious. With the Queen's spartan attitute towards waste and extravagance clearly evident, it resembled a small parlour and only the rigidly anchored seats and table indicated that this was a fast-moving vehicle subject to the vagaries of speed on a railway line. As their journey did not include overnight travel, a bedroom was not at their disposal. The carriage, although part of the train, was private and inaccessible to other passengers boarding at the stations they passed through.
Berwick, Newcastle, Durham, York and so to London where they would be shunted on to a siding to await another train which would deliver them to Dover. There the Wagons-Lits' specially commissioned ferry for the Orient Express would carry the passengers across the English Channel to Calais and then the luxurious and famed Club Train would take them direct to Paris and the Gare de l'Est, to embark on the next stage of their journey.
It sounded simple enough, a smooth-running plan efficiently activated by royal commands issuing from Balmoral courtesy of the telegraph service. Faro hoped it worked, content meanwhile with the opportunity to acquaint himself with his travelling companions, in particular young George.
He was not by nature a nervous man, in fact he carried a lifetime's guarantee in the records of the Edinburgh City Police of being reliably robust in the face of adversity. However, in this instance he exercised extreme caution over the efficiency of arrangements in which he had not been personally involved. Any unscheduled halt of the train and his hand flew by habit and instinct to his pocket for the reassuring presence of the revolver concealed there.
Once, just beyond York, a great hustle ensued, with men rushing alongside the train, up and down the line, shouting at one another. Dieter also carried a weapon and Faro noted his reaction was identical. Both men exchanged glances, with one thought in mind, aware once again of the compartment's few hiding places for the two boys should the worst happen.
There seemed nothing worthy of comment but George had interpreted what might be happening outside. He had also observed the two men's gestures towards their concealed weapons and said in a matter of fact way, 'If there is trouble, I think it would be best if Anton and I lay down on the floor, out of sight.'
'I don't think it will come to that,' said Faro looking at him admiringly. A cool head, twelve years old and no signs of fear. Well done, George.
He looked round the little group, brave indeed. He had expected that the woman Helga might have trembled just a little, but she showed no signs of emotion. All was calm. Nerves of steel.
Afterwards he was to remember the significance of that incident and how George was the only one who anticipated danger.
A guard appeared at the window on the line below them and explained the sudden halt. 'We're off again. Just a cow wandering along the line.'
Anton gave a sigh of relief and sat back in his seat. Perhaps he had been scared after all, as he said to George in German which Faro only partly understood, but got the gist that it was as well that the Inspector and Dieter were armed, for one never knew.
Until the wandering cow incident, Faro had not seriously considered that any attempts would be made to stop George from leaving the country. Now he realised he had responsibility for George and the enigmatic Anton who, he gathered from Dieter, was a remote cousin who had been chosen to accompany George to Glenatholl. 'In case he was lonely and needed a boy of his own age, speaking his own language and from his own background,' explained Dieter, whose English was excellent.
Admirable sentiments, thought Faro, and a splendid opportunity for a paid companion. In the circumstances it seemed inevitable that Anton should also be returned to his own country,
although Faro decided he could have been forgiven for wishing to remain in Scotland and continue the expensive education that being companion to the heir of Luxoria had given him.
Anton gave little away. There was a watchful, guarded air about the lad which discouraged Faro's attempts at conversation. Was he homesick and anxious, devoted to George? Both, or neither? Whatever Anton's reasons, there was a distance, perhaps an instinctive resentment as his sullen glance often rested on his cousin. The elder by a couple of years, it was understandable that Anton should be a little envious of the younger boy's privileged position.
Regarding Dieter, Faro could only speculate. He did not enjoy the prospect of his company all the way to Germany. He felt no rapport, no common ground, and knew only that he had met many such bodyguards in his long career. He regarded them guardedly as shady individuals who gave nothing away, and Dieter fitted the pattern, his emotions locked behind an expressionless face.
Yet there was something, Faro suspected, something ruthless behind that cool mask. A mask for the man of instant action, and that should be a source of comfort for here was a man who would kill without hesitation.
Having presumed that the two bodyguards were comrades, once while the two boys were out of earshot in the corridor, he asked Dieter what would happen to Tomas. Would his body be returned to his family in Luxoria after the accident inquest?
Dieter looked at him in surprise, as if such an idea had never entered his head. Without any emotion, he shrugged. 'He will be buried in Perth.'
'Has he no family?' Faro asked.
'None. Arrangements have been made. We have no details of his next of kin.'
Faro knew there were reasons for such omissions by men who led secret and highly dangerous lives. He looked at Dieter's cold face. 'Do you believe it was an accident?'
[Inspector Faro 14] - Faro and the Royals Page 40