'We will, indeed. And we're grateful to you, aren't we, Terence?' said Lady Lethie.
Sir Terence nodded, his polite smile in Faro's direction signalling dismissal. The case was closed.
Faro stood up and said: 'I didn't come about the burglary, sir.' And to Roma Fortescue he handed the Prime Minister's letter. 'This is the reason for my visit.'
He never took his eyes off her face as she read it once, and then with a bewildered expression, read it again.
'May we know -' Sir Terence began.
'Is it something serious, my dear?' asked Lady Lethie.
Although Miss Fortescue smiled and shook her head, Faro noticed that her hands trembled ever so slightly as she read out the letter to them. Nor did she miss the anxious looks that were exchanged between the Lethies before Sir Terence cleared his throat and muttered: 'Splendid to know that your mistress is in Balmoral. And safe, too.'
Safe. There was that word again, thought Faro grimly.
'But what a journey for her to make alone,' Sir Terence continued, with a man's concern for practicalities. 'I wonder how on earth she managed it, Faro?'
'She must be a lady of great resource and courage, considering her sheltered background,' Faro replied drily.
'Oh, she is, I assure you,' said Miss Fortescue. 'She is indeed.' And to Faro: 'I presume we are leaving immediately.'
'If you please, miss, the sooner the better.'
'This time tomorrow and all will be revealed, m'dear. You will know the truth behind this little mystery,' said Terence heartily. 'No doubt, a very simple explanation.'
It was never that simple. Faro knew of old and to his cost that dealings with royal persons could be extremely devious -and dangerous. By careful circumnavigation of the facts, they could be overly economical with the truth.
And what they called truth often turned out to be only the very tip of the iceberg.
'This time tomorrow -'
His growing suspicions confirmed by Roma Fortescue's reaction to the letter, Sir Terence's words echoed in his mind. This time tomorrow, he might indeed know that whole story. If he and Miss Fortescue were still alive to hear it.
Chapter 19
Faro accepted Sir Terence's offer of a bed for the night. Arrangements made for an early start by carriage to Waverley Station next morning, Miss Fortescue and Lady Lethie departed to discuss wearing apparel. The estate factor appeared and needed his lordship's presence. Sir Terence apologised and Faro, left to his own devices, walked in the direction of Mr Stuart Millar's cottage.
There was no one at home. The cottage which had seemed warmly welcoming only days ago was deserted. The fading light of an autumn afternoon lent a touch of melancholy. Overhead rooks screeched homeward and a sudden breeze sent a flurry of dead leaves rattling down the roof.
Faro walked away thoughtfully, considering again the historian's part in this tangled web of intrigue, where no one, it seemed, spoke absolute truth about anything.
On his way back through the grounds, he stopped by the Crusader's Tomb. Regarding that face almost obliterated by wind and weather, he laid his hand on the faint outline of the cross pattee.
'If only you could talk, my friend.'
Above his head, the trees were silent now. The first faint star glittered in that vast uncharted universe beyond the planet earth, far remote from the cares of mankind.
Roma Fortescue's words regarding the Luck o' Lethie came back to him. Luck is often in the mind. What we make of the circumstances.
Faro thought: If I were a superstitious man, I'd believe in its magic too. If its legendary powers were true, it had given unlimited power to Major Weir of the West Bow and to Bailie Lethie, who rescued it from the wizard's burning and with its help built the first Lethie Castle, ensuring prosperity for himself and his heirs. And Faro had his own reasons for acknowledging that brief magic: the strange dreams and the enchantment of those timeless sweet hours when both the Luck o' Lethie and Miss Roma Fortescue were sheltering under his roof.
He returned to the castle and slept well in a very handsome modern bedroom, untroubled by the Luck o' Lethie and the ghosts that had haunted generations of its owners.
Lady Lethie, who had last-minute shopping to do in Edinburgh before their departure to France, accompanied them in the carriage. Her maid sat silently at her side, giving little opportunity for any conversation other than polite trivialities.
But Faro, glancing across at Roma Fortescue, felt that she was not engrossed by urgent pleas for advice on ribbons and lace and satin gowns. He fancied that her replies were short and distracted. Her constant frowns suggested anxious preoccupation, similar to his own, with the rail journey ahead.
At the station, leaving the two women exchanging farewells and promises of letters to be written, Faro headed in the direction of the ticket office.
The queue was surprisingly long and, just ahead of him, he recognised Stuart Millar and his sister Elspeth, with a porter carrying their golf clubs.
They greeted him warmly. 'You are going to Perth too, Inspector?' said Elspeth.
'Jut as far as Enrol.'
They hovered politely while he purchased his tickets, and Faro wasn't at all sure that he really wanted their company at that precise moment.
'I looked in at your house last night,' he said by way of conversation.
Millar smiled. 'We have been away for a few days to the Borders.'
'Staying with friends,' his sister put in eagerly. 'Trying to get in a little practice, you know.'
'I didn't realise you were golfers,' said Faro, waving to Miss Fortescue, who hurried towards them.
Millar laughed. 'Oh, yes, indeed. It is quite a vice of ours.'
Greeting Miss Fortescue, Elspeth's smile was also a question. She would have liked to know a lot more about why these two were going on this particular train, and with luggage. But before she could find the
