'Youngish and quite comely. Walking along where Samson's Ribs joins the road to Duddingston. And there was a landslide.'
'Not again, surely.' The exposed rockface known as Samson's Ribs could be dangerous, especially in bad weather when rocks and loose earth were dislodged with nothing to stop them falling on the road far below.
'We had complaints of a landslide quite recently. I thought they'd done something about it,' he added.
'You know what these authorities are like, Stepfather. No doubt they're waiting for a fatality, and then the Improvement Commission will take action.'
'Tell me about this young lady. Was she badly hurt?'
'Nothing serious. Knocked off her feet, a few bruises. Not nearly as bad as it could have been, but she was very shocked, quite inarticulate. Kept weeping all the time.'
Vince shook his head. 'You know how the Mad Bart mumbles, but I got the gist of it. He had opened his front door and found her there sobbing and crying. Thought it was one of his cats in trouble. He didn't know what to do but wrap her in a blanket and go for help. And then, of course, just as he was leaving: "There you were, young fellow, golf clubs and all,"’ Vince mimicked with a grimace of distaste. 'Really, Stepfather, that dreadful old man -'
Faro, having dealt with wet clothes, now packed newspapers into his soaked boots to speed- up the drying process. He only half-listened, with amused tolerance, to Vince's tirade. His stepson hated few people, but Sir Hedley Marsh was one of them.
From their earliest days at Sheridan Place it seemed that Vince had found particular favour in the Mad Bart's eyes and Solomon's Tower was hard to avoid if they walked to Newington by the short cut through the Pleasance and Gibbet Lane.
As the Tower was adjacent to the more cheerful surroundings of the modern golf course, it had now become increasingly difficult for Vince to evade encounters with the aristocratic recluse.
'I would swear he sits by that window all day, though how he manages to see anything through the grime is a mystery. I now have to sidle past like a criminal, for if he sees me he rushes out, invites me in for a dram. A dram, in that squalor, surrounded by his infernal cats everywhere -'
Faro tried not to smile, for Vince, who could sit for hours reading quite contentedly with Mrs Brook's ginger cat Rusty purring like a kettle on his knee, entertained no such sentimental feelings about Sir Hedley's 'feline army', the innumerable stray cats he had given home to over the years.
'It's disgusting -'
'Come now, Vince, I consider that rather an admirable and endearing trait,' said Faro. 'Can't you see it as a pathetic gesture, an appeal for companionship from a lonely old man?'
'I can't see it, but I assure you, I can smell it. When he opens the door - really, Stepfather, the place should be condemned as a hazard to health. I could hardly breathe. That poor woman, too. I just hoped she wouldn't succumb to asphyxia before I did.'
Faro, who had been unfortunate enough to cross the threshold on several occasions, could only agree. Still, he did find Vince's animosity trying. He went on and on about it. Why on earth should he hate this tiresome but well-meaning old man? Such venom was quite out of character with Vince's normal serenity, his generous spirit.
'What happened to your patient?'
Vince shrugged. 'I left her there. Offered to see her safely home, of course. But she said no, she would prefer to rest a while. She did seem in rather a state,' he added, frowning. 'In the normal way, I would have insisted, but I just had to get out of that house. I had to breathe fresh air. He said he'd go out and get a carriage and I wasn't to worry. So I didn't,' he ended, closing his mouth defiantly.
Faro had been too preoccupied with getting dried and heating water to make himself a hot toddy to feel sympathetic towards Vince's encounter with the Mad Bart.
Now when he mentioned his own unpleasant near-accident with a runaway carriage that hurtled out of the darkness, he was somewhat hurt by Vince's merriment as any possibly sinister implications were mockingly dismissed.
'Really, Stepfather, it happens all the time. After all, the West Bow's a threat to everyone, the sooner it's pulled down the better.'
Glancing at Faro's solemn face, he smiled. 'Come now, you know as well as I do that carriages are positively uncontrollable there if the cobblestones are wet or icy. You are lucky there was no more damage than a buckled wheel -'
'And a long walk home on a very wet night,' Faro put in acidly, seized by an uncontrollable fit of sneezing.
Vince was unrepentant. He stretched out his hand firmly. 'And I'll take some of that hot toddy too, if you please. I could do with it, I can tell you. After my experiences.'
Faro said no more. Bidding his stepson goodnight, he went grumpily up to bed where he fell asleep to be haunted by bad dreams. Closed carriages drawn by wild black horses swept towards him and ghostly lights appeared at the windows of Major Weir's house, to a grisly accompaniment of maniacal laughter.
As always, Vince's good temper was restored by a night's sleep. The prospect of a weekend house party at Lethie Castle with some decent golf pleased him to no end.
The impending visit to Aberlethie had also caused a flurry of extra activity in Mrs Brook's kitchen, where the warm smell of baking battled with the aroma of hot irons and boot polish.
As the two men cautiously entered her domain, she beamed on then proudly. She did like her gentlemen being well cared for. A task she sometimes found extremely difficult since
