Would he ever forgive himself for not appearing just five minutes late on the platform in the dining hall at Glenatholl?
Matters were serious enough without this new incident, he thought, remembering Julian's first-hand account of political unrest in Luxoria, which even before Amelie's visit to East Lothian had been fast deteriorating towards revolution. What those intervening years had been like for her he did not care to imagine, or the situation which had led, as Julian hinted, to her desperate consideration of abandoning centuries of independence and placing Luxoria under Germany's protection. As Julian had suggested, this was doubtless the reason for her attempted assassination at her husband's instigation.
In the light of his present knowledge, Faro longed for an excuse to arrive at Glenatholl, see the lad again, talk to him, even ask some questions. Was he aware that his mother might no longer be alive. How much had they told him of her 'accident'?
The picture of his tears, of being consoled on the drive by his companion and the other bodyguard shouting that it was forbidden would remain etched in Faro's mind forever. But sense reasserted itself over emotion, as it had done throughout his life. Whatever happened, the last person who must ever know the true facts regarding his birth was Prince George of Luxoria.
As the carriage approached the railway station through the streets of Perth, being unable to spot a newspaper vendor was a further frustration and anxiety. Faro wanted only to be back in Edinburgh as quickly as possible for a bulletin regarding Amelie's condition. Inactive and helpless, patiently awaiting developments had never been a strongpoint in his character or a virtue to number among his nobler characteristics.
Chapter 7
The carriage set him down in the station forecourt in good time for the Edinburgh train. Walking briskly back and forth along the platform to ward off the chill east wind, he observed a stationary railway carriage on a siding, seemingly deserted and without any engine in sight. Faro had no difficulty in recognising it, despite the lack of any distinguishing marks, as the royal carriage which would be attached to a normal service train between Ballater and England. With no longer the least nostalgia for having often sat in that carriage during his service with Edinburgh City Police en route for Balmoral, he watched curiously as a figure descended and quickly disappeared, hidden by the other side of the platform.
Faro wondered idly which member of the royal family was on an incognito visit in the neighbourhood. The Edinburgh train steamed into the station and Faro was about to climb aboard when a figure rushed panting on to the platform, recognisable as the man he had seen leaving the stationary royal carriage.
The guard was waiting to wave his flag, and obligingly holding the door open for the latecomer, Faro's foot was on the step when he was taken aback to discover that instead of a grateful acceptance of his help, the man seized him round the waist and dragged him bodily back on to the platform.
'What on earth? What do you think you are doing? Release me at once!'
'Inspector Faro, is it not?' gasped the man.
'It is indeed, if it's any of your business. Now kindly allow me to board the train.'
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the guard with the whistle at his lips, the flag in readiness. His mouth had dropped open and he looked like a man who felt he ought to intervene but didn't quite know the right words or gestures required. However, Faro's assailant, for such he seemed, nodded briefly in his direction and at the same time produced a card and thrust it before Faro.
Faro groaned. He had seen it before many times. It bore the royal signature. The code-word uttered at the same instant brought his immediate attention to Her Majesty the Queen's command.
'You do understand, sir. Bear with me, if you please. I will explain and you can catch another train. I assure you this is of the utmost importance.'
And still holding Faro's arm firmly, as if instant flight was intended, he nodded again to the guard who, thankful that his intervention was not required, blew his whistle. Faro watched helplessly as the train steamed out of the station without him, and with an exasperated gesture pulled his arm free of the man's grip.
'I am very sorry, sir. Captain Reece, at your service.' And with a respectful bow. 'Now if you will be so good as to follow me, I will explain. My carriage is outside.'
So it wasn't to be the royal train to Ballater, after all. That was a relief, thought Faro. Following Reece out of the station, he demanded angrily, 'What in hell's name is all this about? Perhaps you are unaware that I am now retired. And that means I am no longer responsible for taking care of Her Majesty's affairs. There are other senior detectives and here in Perth I understand there is an excellent police force, who are perfectly adequate to deal with such matters.'
Reece did not appear to be listening. Ushered into the carriage in the forecourt, Faro consulted his watch impatiently. 'Will this take long?' he demanded. 'The next train is in two hours' time and I should like to be on it. There are urgent matters in Edinburgh requiring my immediate attention.'
Reece stared out of the window, craning his neck, a gesture which suggested even to the uninitiated that he feared they were being followed.
'Captain Reece, I am addressing you. Have the goodness to give me your attention.'
With a sigh, Reece sat back. 'I will do my best to accommodate you, Inspector, but once I tell you what has happened, perhaps you will change your mind.'
The man's sombre manner was
