Opening the door of Miss Halliday's cottage cautiously, he noted that it was remarkably tidy inside. In the kitchen, a few papers lay scattered on the floor, a broken ornament, a shattered cup, but there was a gold watch on the sideboard and a purse full of sovereigns.
Money had not been the burglar's object.
Turning back again to the kitchen table, he noticed that it was set for two people, one each side of the table; one cup was almost full, the other empty.
He stood back and regarded the scene carefully. The clues were all there.
Miss Halliday had been attacked by someone she knew well enough to take out her best china. He looked at the mantelpiece and visualised the scene indicated by two broken ornaments and a framed photograph on the floor, swept off by her arm no doubt as she fought off her attacker.
Picking them up and returning them to their rightful places with the complete recall that was one of his remarkable assets, he saw that Sir Walter Scott's letter was missing. Walking round the table again, he stood beside the cup of tea that had been abandoned. Opposite it, the painting of the boy Eric was missing.
As he closed the door, he had no longer the least doubt that the killer of Sir Archie and the poacher Duffy had also attacked Miss Halliday. His experience indicated that the three people were linked in a murderous chain of events.
Or could it be that the presence of Detective Inspector Faro upset someone with a guilty conscience?
Going over his conversation with Miss Halliday, he decided to cross the road to the Castle lodge and call upon Miss Imogen Crowe.
There was no response and, trying the door, he found it unlocked. He was not as surprised as he should have been to see Scott's letter lying on her kitchen table.
He picked it up. His fascinated re-reading of it was interrupted by Miss Crowe's arrival.
Then she saw what he held and pointed an accusing finger.
'No!' He forestalled her accusation with one of his own. This is, I believe, the property of Miss Halliday.'
'It is. She lent it to me. To make a copy.'
Faro laughed. 'Oh, did she indeed? And do you know where she is at the moment?'
Miss Crowe shrugged. 'Across the road in her house, I expect.'
Faro leaned on the table. 'Then you expect wrong, miss. Someone broke into her house last night. She was attacked -'
There was a shocked exclamation as Miss Crowe asked: 'Is she all right?'
'She is unconscious.'
'Where is she? I'll look after her -'
'No need to trouble yourself, the minister's wife is more than capable.'
Miss Crowe clenched her hands. 'Will she recover?'
'Who knows?'
'But how did it happen - I mean -'
'We gather she intercepted a burglar.'
'A burglar?' whispered Imogen Crowe.
'That is so, miss.' And, laying down the letter, he tapped its frame. 'I suppose you know you could go to gaol for that.'
He had the dubious satisfaction of seeing her face turn deathly pale, white as the cloth on the kitchen table, as he turned on his heel and left her.
Chapter 22
At the inn, Faro found Vince looking forward to supper. Refreshed and bathed, in a good humour, he was eager to listen to his stepfather's latest experiences.
'You had better get it all off your chest,' he said, 'then you can consider the case finally closed and we can begin to enjoy ourselves.'
'First of all, there's this visit to the Castle. They don't know I'm a detective and it's bound to come out.'
'Ah, I'm well ahead of you there. I've explained to the twins and Miss Gilchrist that you are on a secret mission of national importance. They were very impressed and you can rely on them not to give the game away. Now, what have you found out?'
As Faro went through the details, item by item, Vince listened carefully: 'One thing is obvious, those missing paintings are tucked safely away somewhere in the attics of the Castle. To be brought out and discreetly restored to their original places, once Her Majesty has forgotten all about them. I think it will be safe enough for I doubt whether Bertie will make any more incognito visits to Elrigg, don't you agree?'
'Indeed. Two unfortunate fatal accidents should be enough to cool even his ardour,' said Faro.
'And you can certainly remove from your mind that he had any part in the bull's horn business. That is hardly his style. I understand he is not even passable with a rifle.' Vince paused to take a second helping of game pie. 'I'd hazard a guess that Philip Gray's death was an accident. As for the laird's - that comes into the dubious area of "might-have-been-murder". Trouble was you arrived far too late to be of any use proving anything to the contrary.'
'True enough, even if they had wanted my help,' said Faro. 'With the blessing of Sergeant Yarrow and the Northumberland Constabulary, the trail was cold.'
'Worse than that, Stepfather. As far as I can see there isn't a shred of real evidence against anyone. As for your suspects. Well, I'd be prepared to bet a great deal of money that it wasn't Lady Elrigg in the classic role of husband-murderer. I'm sure she had enough experience of the wicked world not to get rid of the goose that was laying the golden eggs for her.
'As for Mark. I'll tell you more when I meet him, but I'd be surprised because it doesn't sound likely, from what I've heard of him through the Gilchrists. And from what you've told me, there is no real evidence of guilty lovers.'
Vince gestured with his fork. 'I wonder why there are no children to the Elrigg marriage. As a doctor, that intrigues
