'Am I correct, so far?'
Dewar grinned. 'You are, sir. As luck would have it Sergeant Yarrow and I were out riding on duty together that day. We need the horses when we have a lot of ground to cover during the shoot. We are expected to keep an eye on things. The Sergeant being lame and I'm not a young man any more, we both move fairly slowly on foot.'
'You usually accompany a shooting party?'
'That's correct, sir. Oversee it, in case of accidents.'
'But there wasn't a shooting party that day?'
Dewar looked uncomfortable. 'No, but there had been earlier that week. You see, at the Castle they were entertaining a very special guest, an important gentleman.' He went on hurriedly before Faro could ask if he knew this important gentleman's identity. 'We had also been warned to keep a lookout for those two valuable paintings that went missing.'
Faro had no wish to be diverted from the circumstances of Archie's death. He had already decided that there had been no burglary at the castle. And that the paintings had been conveniently stored away by the Elriggs themselves, safe from Her Majesty's acquisitiveness.
'Did you witness the accident by any chance?'
'No. But we were just a short distance away - over there, on the pastureland when the gentleman rode over to us. He was in a dreadful state. A real panic. Said he was going for help.'
'Were the cattle about?'
'Oh yes, they were grazing. Just like today.'
'And you rode among them?'
'Not quite among them, sir, that would be asking for trouble. We kept at a safe distance and if you're on horseback they don't attack. Seems as if they only see the horses and don't consider other four-footed creatures as their enemies. It's odd because they don't seem aware of the men on their backs.'
'And what happened then?'
'Sergeant Yarrow told me to ride like the devil for the doctor and bring back the pony trap from the station in case he needed it to carry Sir Archie back if he was badly injured. He'd stay with him, meantime, see if there was anything he could do to help.'
'How long did all this take?'
Dewar shook his head. 'I didn't take much notice of the time to tell truth, sir. I was a bit flustered - His Lordship injured and all that. We're not used to crises like that. I suppose we thought of Sir Archie as being immortal. A bit like God. And he wasn't the sort that accidents happen to, could ride like the wind, drunk or sober.'
He was silent for a moment. 'I had to tell Her Ladyship and get old Clarence ready for the pony trap.' He sucked his lip, calculating. 'I'd reckon I was nearly an hour at least. When I got back Dr Brand was already there with Sergeant Yarrow. And I knew, just by looking at their faces, that it was too late.'
Dewar stopped and glanced at Faro who was studying the ground curiously. 'Is there something wrong, sir?'
'Has there been much rain since the accident?'
Dewar clearly thought this an odd question. 'Not more than a few showers, sir. We're having a dry spell.'
Kneeling down, Faro examined the ground, ran the soil though his fingers, but any evidence had long since returned to dust. A few weeks was enough to obliterate the churned-up mud which might have preserved evidence of two riders side by side, and even of a charging animal.
Dewar watched, too polite to ask the burning questions brought about by such strange behaviour.
Faro straightened up, smiled at him. 'Footprints and horses' hoofs, sharp and clear, can tell us a lot. Did you notice anything unusual?'
And when Dewar looked merely puzzled, Faro pointed: 'About the ground, I mean.'
Dewar thought for a moment. 'Odd that you should ask, sir.' And rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 'When I came back with the others, I walked around -' He grinned. 'Just the policeman in me, sir. Can't help that. And when the doctor said that Sir Archie had been gored, I wondered about the bull's hoofprints.'
'There were some?'
'No, sir, that's what was odd. There weren't any. Nothing to indicate the churned-up ground a great heavy angry beast would make charging down on someone.'
'Did you point it out to Sergeant Yarrow?'
Dewar looked embarrassed. 'Yes, I did. But he wasn't impressed. I don't blame him,' he added hastily. 'He's a city policeman really, and they don't see things like country folk born and bred. Besides,' he added reluctantly, 'he does make a bit of fun of me, says I'm always on the lookout, hoping for a crime but that I'd never recognise one if it stared me in the face.'
His voice was sad, then he laughed. 'He's probably right, sir. Crimes are the last thing he wants. And you can understand that, after all he's been through, he values a peaceful life above all things. Not like me, I've never had much chance of real crime,' he added in tones of wistful regret.
Faro smiled. Such reaction fitted in with Yarrow's relaxed attitude to crime; however, if Dewar's observations were correct, the omission of hoofprints should have perturbed him considerably. He said consolingly: 'Well, you were quite right to bring it to Sergeant Yarrow's attention, even the smallest thing can be of importance.'
'I could have been wrong. I admit that. The rescue party from the castle with horses and the like would have covered up any other tracks.'
He paused, looking back towards the village, remembering. 'I told Her Ladyship. She was very upset and there was a great deal of bustle in the house. Maids rushing this way and that. The other gentleman, the one with the beard, that had been riding with His Lordship, he was leaving. He seemed to be in a great hurry.'
Dewar shook
