Blood Line: An Inspector Faro Mystery

by Alanna Knight

  'That would almost certainly be Rose, my bright, observant lass,' said Faro, his voice broken, near to tears.

  'The woman said she then tried to get the coachman to stop, but he pretended not to hear and whipped the horses on faster. She guessed that they were being taken somewhere against their will. She then showed great presence of mind. The carriage had to stop momentarily at the crossroads, to let another vehicle pass, and she pushed the girls out. She intended jumping down after them, when the carriage took off again at high speed and took her with it. It stopped at some big gates - no, she had no idea where. She tried to get out and when the coachman saw that the girls had gone, he struck her down and when she came to, she - where are you going?'

  'I'm going to the Central Office, to have every constable alerted.'

  'I've already done that, Stepfather. On my way here. I reported two small girls abducted, and a constable left immediately for the Castle to interview the maid.'

  'You stay here - tell the womenfolk any story you like. I'll be back as soon as I have news.'

  Cursing the limp that hampered him when he most needed speed, Faro hurried towards Ncwington Road, where he found a hackney carriage setting down passengers. Grumbling about the late hour, the driver was persuaded to take the Inspector to the Central Office.

  And there, walking towards a waiting police carriage was the most welcome sight in his whole world. Two small girls in the custody of Sergeant Danny McQuinn.

  Faro called out. A moment later, he had them gathered to his breast. And for those prayers answered, a peace passing all understanding reigned in his heart.

  'Papa, Papa.' Speechless, tearful with joy, he held them in his arms. 'We've had such an adventure, Papa.'

  Over their heads, he looked at McQuinn, grinning with delight. For once, if there had been room he would have included his old enemy in that grateful embrace.

  'Thanks, Sergeant.'

  McQuinn grinned. 'I was just about to escort these two young ladies back home. Constable McDonald found them wandering along the High Street. That elder lass of yours - Rose is it? - shows great enterprise. Told me some amazing story, mind you, about escaping from a carriage on the Meadows.'

  In the police carriage on the way back to Sheridan Place, hugging them to his side as if he could never let them out of his sight again, he listened to the rest of Rose's story.

  'It's true, Papa. It was a horrid carriage, all dark and enclosed and smelly - with the blinds down.'

  'I didn't like it one bit and that horrid maid of Miss Haston's pushed us out and left us to find our own way back,' was Emily's indignant contribution. 'We were lost, Papa, and anyway we knew there was no one at home.'

  'You couldn't have seen anything anyway, you were so busy crying, Em. Luckily the moon helped and I managed to guess from Arthur's Seat and the Castle where the High Street might be.'

  'She made us keep walking, for hours and hours, Papa,' wailed Emily. 'And I was so tired. Look at my best shoes. They're ruined, Papa. And they were so pretty. Grandmama will be so cross,' she added with a tearful sniff.

  'Never mind, my precious. You shall have a new pair, I promise.'

  'As I was saying,' interrupted Rose sternly, 'when I recognised we were near the High Street, after that it was easy. We saw a constable and told him we were lost.'

  'I told him that you were our Papa,' said Emily.

  'He took us to that nice Sergeant who was just going to take us home in the police carriage. But oh Papa, we were so glad to see you,' whispered Rose, snuggling a little closer so that she could kiss his cheek.

  'We were very frightened, Papa,' whispered Emily.

  'No, we weren't, Em,' said her sister indignantly.

  'What a fib. I saw you crying once.'

  'Just when we were very lost, and just a little bit, Em. But it was an adventure, wasn't it, Papa?'

  One, thought Faro, that he fervently hoped he - and they - would never experience again.

  'Do you think the nasty coachman was going to hold us to ransom?'

  'Not really, Rose. I think it was all a bit of a mistake.'

  'Mistake, Papa? How?'

  He didn't want them to have nightmares. 'He might have been a little deaf and just didn't realise that you wanted to get out.'

  'Then why was he going the wrong way?'

  'Maybe he got the maid's directions wrong.'

  Rose regarded him severely. Her small face registered disappointment. 'You don't really think that, do you, Papa?'

  He didn't. But at that moment, the carriage stopped outside Sheridan Place, and leaving them to the rapturous reception from the three eager anxious people awaiting their arrival, Faro told the driver to take him to the Castle.

  'It's very late, Inspector.' It was indeed.

  The Castle gates closed at eleven and midnight was striking. He must content himself with a scribbled note, 'All's well. Girls safe and sound at home.' Leaving this with the gatekeeper to be delivered to Sir Eric immediately, he ordered the police carriage to return him to Sheridan Place.

  As he looked out of the window, the moon was bright as day and he felt a strong desire to propitiate the pagan moon goddess. What would have been the answer to tonight's sinister happenings if there had been no moon by which his enterprising Rose could recognise Arthur's Seat and discover that they were prisoners in a sinister carriage taking them in the wrong direction, away from Sheridan Place?

  He shivered, longing to reach home where the girls were now safely asleep and there was laughter, smiling faces and a certain feeling of celebration in the air. Celebration - or was it deliverance from evil?

  Suddenly he realised that the disappearance of Rose and Emily had put out of his mind all thoughts about Lieutenant Mace's failure to appear regarding the urgent message. A message which had brought Faro to the Castle in the first place and thereby set in motion the nightmare events of the last few hours.

  He slept late next morning and awoke to the sound of church bells ringing. Downstairs Mrs Brook told him that his mother had taken the girls to morning service, leaving strict instructions that he was not to be disturbed.

  Inspector Faro and Dr Laurie were lapsed Presbyterians, their kirk-going limited to somewhat perfunctory family occasions. Normally Vince took the opportunity of discreetly sleeping off Saturday night's hangover and did not appear until Sunday luncheon.

  Hopeful that he might be awake, Faro looked into his bedroom. There was no response to his whispered 'Vince?', so ignoring Mrs Brook's lavish breakfast for his digestion's sake, Faro made his way up to the Castle.

  He was anxious to speak to Bet and be in time to talk to Arthur Mace as he came off church parade. From the maid he learned that Sir Eric and her mistress had gone to morning service at St Giles's Cathedral, but her first question was for Rose and Emily.

  'If any harm had befallen them, I would never have forgiven myself, Inspector. Never.' Her distress was obvious and the passion of her words genuine, making Faro realise once again that one should not make hasty judgements based on appearances only. Faces had their own reasons for presenting a dour expression to the world, but that did not mean that the hearts they hid were cold and uncaring.

  'I'd like you to tell me what happened last night. First of all, why did you send Sir Eric's carriage away when you reached Sheridan Place?'

  'Because the gates at the entrance weren't open, sir.'

  That was true. After dusk they were locked and residents had to produce their own keys to gain admittance. As he listened to the maid's story, he realised it was almost word for word what Vince had related to him. At the end, she regarded his stern face apprehensively.

  'You do believe me, do you not, sir?'

  Some odd turns of phrase and her swarthy appearance had decided him even more than her faint accent that she was probably French.

  When he said so, she smiled. 'From French-speaking Canada, sir. But I have been with Miss Haston's family since she was a little girl.'

  And that
fact put an end to any further doubts he might have had about the truth of her story. 'What about those big gates, where you managed to leave the carriage? Do you know how long it took you to reach them?'

  'Ten minutes, maybe more. Half an hour? I have no means of being certain of the time.'

  'You say that the coachman threw you out with some violence.'

  'He struck me and, yes, I fell to the ground.'

  'I trust you were not injured in any way.'

  Again she shrugged. 'Not even bruised, sir. I fell on grass and I fainted only with fear, you understand.'

  'Would you recognise those big gates again?'

  She hesitated and then shook her head. 'It was moonlight, a road with a long wall. But I was so frightened and, as you know, Inspector, I've never been in Edinburgh before. I only know this area round the Castle here and, of course, Princes Street, where I go shopping with Miss Haston.'

  'Have you any idea what was intended by this abduction?'

  'Ab-duction - what is that, sir?'

  'The attempt to kidnap the girls and yourself.'

  She thought for a moment. 'It was not I they wanted, for sure. It must have been the little girls.' She looked at him steadily. 'Perhaps they hoped to hold them to ransom. Is that not the way with such kidnappers?'

  'Only if they knew who they were, and I am by no means a rich man.'

  At his words, Bet opened her mouth as if some thought had occurred to her, then she shook her head.

  'Well?' said Faro.

  She shrugged. 'It is nothing.'

  'Allow me to be the judge of that, mademoiselle.'

  'It is too silly, but - but it occurs to me that perhaps you were not the, er- target, is it? And that your little girls were never really in danger. That they were - somehow - only there by accident.'

  Her slow speech as she sought for the right words made Faro unnecessarily impatient. 'What are you trying to tell me, mademoiselle?'

  'Sir Eric - he is a rich man, yes?'

  'Yes.'

  'And he has influence with people in high places, yes?'

  'He has.'

  'And Miss Lucille is his niece - that is so?'

  Faro agreed.

  'I am only thinking that perhaps it was not myself and your little girls that the kidnappers wanted. You see, Inspector, Miss Lucille gave me her hooded cloak the day after we went to the shops on Princes Street.' She looked up at him. 'This was the first time I am wearing it.' She shrugged. 'Perhaps it is of no significance, but maybe this coachman made a mistake and took the maid for the mistress.'

  A remote possibility but one worth bearing in mind. Faro asked, 'Tell me about this coachman. Would you recognise him again?'

  The maid drew herself up stiffly. 'I do not look at such men, Inspector,' she said, a touch indignantly. 'All I can tell you is that he had a tall hat and was muffled up to the eyes, even though it was a warm night. As he never got down from his box, I do not know if he was short or tall, thin or fat.' She shivered at the memory. 'I was very frightened. Coming from the backwoods with wild beasts and wild men is one thing, but a respectable woman does not expect such behaviour in a civilised big city like Edinburgh and living in a titled gentleman's establishment.'

  Faro hid a smile at her innocence, and thanked her for her presence of mind in engineering his daughters' escape from the carriage. Trusting she was none the worse for her adventure, he gratefully thrust a couple of guineas into her hand and went in search of Lieutenant Mace.

  The corridor to Room 223 was deserted. He tapped on the door and, receiving no reply, opened it. He was not really surprised to find it empty again.

  For some reason Mace was being very elusive, but what really disturbed Faro was that everything looked exactly as it had been last night, even to the dress uniform spread out awaiting the young officer's return. As neither it nor the bed had been disturbed, the obvious conclusion was that Mace had not slept in his room, nor had he returned there after dinner in the Mess.

  Faro sat down on the only chair. He had to think this out. If Mace was missing, the connection with last night's events and the attempted kidnapping of his daughters on their way home from the Castle took on a very sinister aspect indeed.

  The decision for the girls to go home with Bet in Sir Eric's carriage had been quite spontaneous. To believe otherwise was to take into account what appeared to be an elaborate string of coincidences, whereby the kidnappers had some connection with the Castle and that Miss Haston's maid and Sir Eric's coachman, Roberts, were in league with them.

  And Faro found himself remembering how often of late he had felt sure that his house was being watched. He went quite cold at the thought of what such vigilance might imply.

  And what of the missing Lieutenant?

  Should he give credence to the maid's theory about her mistaken identity and, if the plot was to kidnap Lucille Haston, had Mace received some warning of what was to happen? In fact, had his information nothing to do with the Queen Mary jewel or the missing page of a sixteenth-century inventory? Dangerous information which threatened repercussions on Faro and all his family.

  Chapter Eleven

  As he entered Sir Eric's apartments, Lucille was removing her apple green satin bonnet, a perfect match for her gown. Her uncle, distinguished and resplendent in full Highland dress, handed Faro a glass. As he savioured the excellent Madeira, their first concern was for Rose and Emily.

  Assured that the girls were well and quite unharmed by their ordeal, Sir Eric said. 'I took Roberts to task. He won't forget in a hurry that in future he waits with the carriage until his passengers are safely indoors. When I think of what could have happened to those dear children...'

  'At least Bet didn't lose her head,' said Lucille proudly. 'I know you've never cared greatly for her, Uncle . . . '

  Sir Eric shrugged. 'I was wrong. Worth her weight in gold,' and turning to Faro, 'good of you to come so promptly, lad. We were all desperately anxious, even after we received your message.'

  '1 really came to see Mace.'

  'Mace?' Sir Eric frowned. 'I had quite forgotten. What was that about again?'

  'I had a message from him. I believe it had something to do with this,' he said, taking the Queen Mary cameo out of his pocket.

  Sir Eric and Lucille studied it carefully.

  'Quite genuine, is it? Remarkably fine piece.'

  Lucille took it and held it against her neck. 'To think that it is so old, and that the Queen of Scots probably wore it,' and closing her eyes ecstatically, she whispered, 'just like this, touching her bare flesh as it does mine, three hundred years ago.'

  Sir Eric watched her with a tolerant smile as, suddenly shivering, she handed the jewel back to Faro. 'I'm not really sure that I would care to wear it, not after all that sad history.'

  'You aren't likely to get the chance, m'dear,' laughed Sir Eric. 'I can't imagine the owner wanting to part with it. Must be worth a small fortune.' And to Faro, 'Who owns it, anyway?'

  'We don't know.' He explained that it had been found on Castle Rock after the attempted break in and that, as it was unclaimed, Superintendent Mackintosh had decided it belonged with Queen Mary's jewels in the museum.

  'Quite right, of course, once we have checked its authenticity. I'll get Forster to look into it. He should know - or Mace, even better. He's a very knowledgeable young man. I presume he's seen it.'

  'He has.'

  'I dare say he has found out something.'

  'Do let us know. It's all very exciting,' said Lucille.

  'What's wrong, Jeremy lad? You're looking very solemn.'

  'I can't understand why he hasn't contacted me, sir.'

  'Oh, I dare say he will.'

  'But I went to his room and it didn't look as if his bed had been slept in.'

  Sir Eric chortled. 'Come now. You obviously don't know army life, young lad, or what these chaps get up to. He would be off duty until tomorrow morning. Probably got a lady friend tucked away somewhere in Edinburgh and courtin
g will have banished all other unimportant details from his mind.'

  A clock struck and Sir Eric said. 'Good heavens, I had almost forgotten. You must excuse me, Jeremy lad, I have an engagement - a rather dreary Council meeting.'

  As Jeremy prepared to depart also, Lucille sighed. 'I haven't any engagement for this afternoon, alas.'

  'You may have the carriage, m'dear. Get Roberts to take you out somewhere and take your maid with you.'

  Lucille smiled slyly. 'Perhaps Inspector Faro would escort me.'

  'Good idea, if he's not too busy.'

  'I am rather anxious to get back to the family. However . . . '

  'Take the girl with you. Have the carriage. Your dear mother and the girls would enjoy a drive on an afternoon like this.'

  'That's very kind of you, sir.'

  'Not at all. Anything to keep this young lady entertained for a while.' At the door Sir Eric looked back. 'I will leave the pair of you to arrange things. Don't let her be a nuisance, Jeremy,' he warned.

  'Beast,' shouted Lucille at the closed door.

  On the way to Sheridan Place, he encouraged Lucille to talk of her life in Canada. Losing her parents when she was very young, he gathered that living with an elderly spinster Haston cousin and in a remote backwoods area had great disadvantages and severe restrictions. Little wonder that a young lady of spirit and restless ambition had been eager to escape.

  'We only came across in May, you know. Uncle thought it advisable that we leave for a while as we lived in the Red River area, where all the trouble is brewing with the Metis.'

  When Faro looked blank, she explained. 'Metis are half-breed Indians. They have a strong French and Roman Catholic culture and they resent being taken over by English-speaking, Protestant Canadians. Their leader is a very brave man called Louis Riel.'

  She was silent for a moment and then continued. 'I didn't realise that I was going to be sent away to another backwoods. Orkney wasn't much better than Canada,' she said in disgust. 'And you can imagine, having heard so much of Edinburgh, I was so looking forward to coming to Uncle Eric for a while.' She sighed. 'Maybe things are always better looked forward to than when they actually happen.'