'Very unfortunate. This quarrel between Bertie and Elrigg -what was it about?'
'I have no idea.'
Vince rubbed his chin thoughtfully. 'So you think there is a possible link between the two?'
Faro sighed. 'All I know is guesswork. Gray was young, handsome, adored by the ladies. Perhaps he was also anxious to enjoy Lady Elrigg's favours.'
'A rival, you mean.' Vince sat up in his chair. 'Good Lord - you don't think -'
'I'm trying hard not to - until I know a great deal more, Vince. This is, after all, circumstantial evidence.'
'Yes, it is. And not very good at that, Stepfather. I can't seriously imagine the heir to the throne killing off his rivals for a lady's favours. After all, with the pick of the field at his disposal, so to speak, would he really care about one more or less drifting towards his bed? As for sullying his hands with murder, surely he has enough influence to discreetly engage someone to do the dire deed for him?'
'Not with his already damaged reputation, Vince.'
'Blackmail, you mean?'
'Precisely. Think of the blackmail potential if the coincidence of these two deaths were made public.'
Vince thought for a moment. 'True. We're in a far from happy position regarding the monarchy. I know he is not popular with his mother's less illustrious subjects, despite that leader-of-society role.'
As Vince spoke, Faro remembered the Queen's comment: 'If he ever becomes king, he will find all these friends most inconvenient.'
'Running away from an embarrassing situation is a long way from murder, Stepfather,' Vince reminded him.
'Then why didn't he wait for Sir Archie to be brought back home instead of immediately leaving the castle?'
'He did that? How do you know?'
'Because he said so in his letter to the Queen. That was what was worrying him. That he might be thought a coward because he gathered up his entourage. And left immediately.'
'Cut short his visit, you mean?'
'Precisely. "I thought it best to withdraw" - his own words.'
'But he didn't realise that Sir Archie was dead, did he?'
'He might have waited to find out.' And Faro remembered again the whining tones of the spoilt schoolboy. 'Try as hard as I can, Vince lad, this doesn't sound to me like the behaviour of an innocent man.'
'Perhaps the business with the actor made him nervous - it was an appalling coincidence after all.'
Faro looked at him sharply. 'I'm no great believer in coincidences, Vince, and this was altogether too strange. No, it won't do, lad. Think about it. Put yourself in those royal shoes. How would you - or any decent fellow - have reacted had you gone riding with another guest - even one you didn't care for - when you saw him thrown and injured?'
Vince frowned. 'Lacking medical knowledge, I'd have tried to make him comfortable before tearing back for help. And I'd have gone back to direct the rescue party to the spot.'
'Exactly. You wouldn't have rushed back so carelessly that you left the gates open with an injured man lying there and wild cattle in the vicinity.'
Vince shook his head. 'Not unless...'
'Unless? You see the doubt. Now you realise what we're dealing with.'
Vince sighed. 'No doubt Bertie will tell you a convincing story. Settle all your fears.'
'I'm afraid not. As you well know, the first place we look for a murderer is within the family circle or close friends, or known enemies, but this is one occasion when I am not allowed to interview the prime suspect.'
'Not allowed - I don't see -'
'Of course you don't. I have been expressly told by Her Majesty that His Royal Highness is not to be interviewed and no mention of his name is to be made. He wishes it kept secret that he was ever at Elrigg at the time of his equerry's death.'
Vince's mouth twisted in distaste. 'All this rather bears out Bradlaugh's scandalous letter, doesn't it?'
The Prince of Wales was twenty-seven in 1868, his behaviour already notorious, when the radical Member of Parliament's sentiments were made public. He wrote, ‘This present Prince should never dishonour his country by becoming its King... neither his intelligence nor his virtues entitle him to occupy the throne.'
Vince shook his head. ‘I don't envy you this one, Stepfather. A good clean murder would be much more your style.'
As Faro agreed with him, the future of what lay in wait at Elrigg was very fortunately veiled.
Chapter 3
Faro's chief regret as he prepared for a hurried departure from Edinburgh was that he had no time to acquaint himself with the brief of a successful art valuer and investigator. His acquaintance with art was limited to sojourns in the National Gallery as a refuge from the rain or to rest his feet.
His fondness for the Gallery had begun more than twenty years earlier in 1850, when, as a young constable, one of his first assignments had been in the Royal Escort party.
The Prince Consort, turning sharply after the ceremony of laying the foundation stone, momentarily lost his balance. Faro sprang forward, dignity was restored and he was thanked with a warm handshake, a kind word and gentle smile. This was Faro's first encounter with the Royal Family and in one of his weird intuitive flashes he saw a great deal into the character of Prince Albert.
Now, as he headed towards Waverley Station, he wished time had been available to acquire some additional facts about wild cattle. His present rudimentary knowledge was limited to the Highland variety whose menacing horns had cast a terrifying shadow over his childhood holidays with his Aunt Isa on Deeside.
He was still subject to nightmares involving heart-thumping chases which now coloured his mental pictures of the Elrigg herd and he resolved to keep the animals at a safe distance since he disliked all
