Olivia was a talented amateur painter and hearing her talking to Mrs Brook, he thought this was what she should be doing instead of concerning herself with dreary matters of no importance whatever, such as whether it should be roast beef or lamb on the menu.
He shook his head, unfolded the newspaper and turned to (he back page in search of the most important item - the results of the golfing championship at St Andrews' famous 'Royal and Ancient’ course.
Meanwhile, unaware that his relationship with Imogen Crowe had been the subject of such speculation, Faro stretched out his hand to the pile of books beside him and selected one more challenge he had set himself - a foreign language to be speedily learned, or so ‘German in Six Easy Lessons’ implied. It would be a useful and necessary addition for his travels in Europe at the side of the Irish writer, his devoted friend and companion, as he described her.
He would very much have liked to change all that and make her his wife, but Imogen would have none of it. She had been free too long and, in her early forties, she considered herself too old to have children even if she had wanted them.
Imogen had a suffragette's attitude to marriage, to any threats to women's freedom for which she had fought so long. And Faro loved her independence, her wit and humour, her passionate dedication to the world's lost causes, although he failed entirely to convince her that he might be eligible for inclusion as a failed suitor. And most of all there was Ireland, her dedication to Home Rule, for which she had sacrificed much in the past, including members of her family murdered for their patriotism.
So Faro followed her to France, to Italy, Austria and Germany, where he found himself for the first time at a considerable disadvantage. Unable to understand a word being said around him, he lurked in the background, a polite observer with a fixed smile, until Imogen, a natural linguist, became aware of his discomfort and embarrassment and patiently translated for him. This was a situation to be deplored, it annoyed him intensely and he made a stern resolve to put his retirement to good use.
Having been constantly shamed and outraged by the British abroad, who believed that if they shouted loud enough in English their wishes could be understood and instantly obeyed, he determined that, as a prospective traveller in foreign parts, he would courteously learn to communicate with his hosts.
At a recent dinner party in Sheridan Place, he mentioned the problem of learning German to a golfing friend of Vince's who was also Professor of Languages at the University. Immediately interested, since everyone who was anyone, he said, knew of Faro's fame as Scotland's most senior detective, the Professor assured him that if he liked solving mysteries then language was a particularly daunting one.
'You have to have a natural ear, a natural aptitude. But perhaps I can help you with some short cuts. I have a couple of hours free on a Wednesday afternoon. Perhaps, if I may offer you the benefits of my experience - '
Faro had been delighted. At this precise moment while he sat in his Edinburgh garden enjoying the autumn sunshine, Imogen would be in Munich, heading for Heidelberg University where she was to meet other Irish exiles, writers and artists, who had introduced her to a new passion - Wagnerian opera.
She enthused in recent letters about Lisa, a new German friend and a diva. 'A wonderful Isolde with a life almost as tragic. You must meet her.' That pleasant thought spurred on his determination to learn ‘hoch Deutsch’ - high German, the accepted tongue for the circles Imogen travelled in.
Faro loved to surprise Imogen, wanting her to be impressed by his perseverance and efficiency, confident that by their next meeting he would have solved his most baffling mystery at present - the basics of German grammar. Once he had cracked that code, he felt, he would be well on the way to success, and he had to admit that this new challenge of mastering language was very exhilarating.
The pronunciation texts at their weekly meetings required considerable concentration from Faro, but the Professor was pleasantly surprised by his new pupil's dexterity.
‘Languages,' he had firmly maintained and warned Faro at that first meeting, 'are best learned when one is young.'
He had had to change his ideas, however, for although it was still early days to expect Faro's abilities to stretch to philosophical conversation, his accent and understanding were outstanding. ‘Here is a man in his fifties,' he told his friends, 'a better and more apt pupil than many of my young and eager students.'
‘German in Six Easy Lessons’. Chapter Four.
Suddenly the blackbird's eulogy was interrupted by Jamie's triumphant shout.
‘I’ve killed your queen. Again, Grandpa. Bang - she's dead.'
Faro's concentration had been distracted while he closed his eyes and tried to memorise a particularly tricky nominative clause.
Now Jamie, with a cavalier disregard for rules, was lolloping his black bishop across the board.
'Checkmate, Jamie,' Faro repeated patiently. 'Checkmate, remember. That's what we call it. Not kill!'
He turned back to Chapter Four. The blackbird had flown away and all was silent. He was at peace with his world.
But not for very much longer.
That tiny unseen black cloud on the horizon was growing steadily larger and threatening to destroy everything. In the shape of Vince it was hurtling across the garden towards him. The bright day was over and life itself would never be the same again.
'Stepfather!' Vince was in front of him, flourishing the newspaper. 'Stepfather, have you seen this?'
Bewildered, Faro shook his head and Vince said: 'I've just read it. This assassination business in Mosheim. Listen, "An attempt has been made on the life of the Grand Duchess of
