If only that were true, he thought. That she was still alive, and in one piece.
'Something like that, perhaps.'
'I'm sure you're mistaken, Lady Lethie. However, it would be a great help if you had a photograph of Her Highness -solely for our purposes. You can rely on our discretion.'
Sara Lethie frowned. 'I think there might be one, taken a long time ago. Possibly Miss Fortescue will have one of a more recent date.' She smiled. 'I'm sure she'll be best able to help you. They have been together since childhood. Very close, you know, grew up together. Why don't you talk to her?'
That was precisely what Faro intended. A personal talk with the lady-in-waiting would better suit the purpose of his enquiries than any picture of the missing woman. His growing misgivings weren't helped by Constable Reid handing him a reply to his telegraph to the North Berwick constabulary: 'No wreckage of coach on road or shore reported.'
As he was leaving, the Superintendent caught him at the door. 'Message from Balmoral, Faro. Her Majesty has had a slight chill and is to remain indoors for a day or two on the advice of her physicians. Let's hope her god-daughter deigns to appear before the Queen arrives. If not, heads will roll,' he added grimly.
Faro shuddered as he closed the door.
He had not seen Vince since his return from Lethie Castle when he had been called away on an urgent and difficult confinement.
'All is well,' he said as they met at supper that night. 'Mother and son doing famously.'
'How did you leave your patient at Aberlethie?'
'Miss Fortescue? Seemed to be making a fine recovery. Healthy young woman, despite a tendency to the vapours. Any further developments in the saga of her missing mistress?'
For Vince's benefit, Faro went over the details of his interview with Mr Gladstone and of Lady Lethie's visit.
Vince frowned. 'I think the romantic assignation is a bit thin, Stepfather. Surely Miss Fortescue would know if she and the Duchess are such close companions?' He paused and then added: 'What do you think of the kidnapping idea?'
'We must consider it as a possibility. But bearing in mind the complexity of Luxorian politics and that the Duchess was forced into a loveless marriage, the odious President might have good reason to want rid of her. But, I suspect, on a more permanent basis than mere kidnapping,' he added grimly.
'A closer acquaintance with Miss Fortescue might indeed bring forth some illuminating thoughts on that subject,' said Vince.
Faro smiled. 'Would you care to volunteer?'
'Alas, no. She isn't quite my type, Stepfather. Pretty and all that, but there's - well, something strange about her. Too reserved - and foreign for me, despite all that good solid British education. She wasn't much in evidence over the weekend and the Mad Bart took himself off, grateful, I think, that the Lethies were willing to look after her. We managed a few rounds of golf and a look at the Luck o' Lethie.'
'Stuart Millar told me it was worth seeing.'
Vince shrugged. 'It's just a battered old horn that hangs in a glass case in the old chapel, the only part of the castle they didn't pull down, in fact. Apparently it was brought back from King Solomon's Temple by the crusader David de Lethie - the one whose tomb is in the priory.'
'Why is it called the Luck o' Lethie?'
Vince smiled. 'Legend has it that as long as it survives, so will the Lethie line continue. Considering the swarm of offspring, and the deafening noise they were making, there seems little doubt about it.' He sighed. 'But none of this helps much with our missing Grand Duchess, does it?'
Faro looked at him. 'Vince, I've had a terrible thought.'
'You're too ready to look on the gloomy side, Stepfather. It's one of your failings. You know that. You must try to keep it under control,' he added severely, and at Faro's expression, he continued, 'Look, the fact that she's still missing doesn't necessarily mean that she's been drowned - or kidnapped, Stepfather. It could be something quite innocuous, as has been suggested, a visit to a secret lover. After all, this is no ordinary missing person -'
Vince stopped suddenly. The same thought was in both of their minds. A woman's body, unidentified, that didn't fit any description on the missing persons list at the Central Office.
'Dear God,' Vince whispered. 'You're surely not thinking -there could be some connection between the - West Bow corpse -'
Faro looked at him slowly and Vince jumped to his feet.
'Oh, no - she couldn't be - could she?' he added weakly.
When Faro didn't reply, Vince sat down again sharply. As sickening realisation dawned they regarded each other with mounting horror across the table, neither fully able to complete the dreadful thought.
That, even as they spoke, Dr Cranley's medical students might be deeply absorbed in dissecting what remained of Amelie, Duchess of Luxoria, the well-beloved god-daughter of Her Majesty the Queen.
Chapter 7
Faro slept little that night.
His thoughts like rats trapped in a cage, he searched in vain for the vital clues that he was certain he had overlooked or whose significance he had failed to recognise when it had been presented to him. Such shortcomings, damnable in his profession, were by no means a novel experience, but left always the dry sensation of defeat in his mouth, the dreaded whisper: was he losing his skill?
He took a deep breath. There was only one solution: before visiting Aberlethie again, and talking to Miss Fortescue, he must return to the discovery of the woman's body in the West Bow and prove to himself - somehow - that his suspicions regarding her identity were false.
After a hasty breakfast without Vince, who had been summoned to attend a sick patient, Faro set off for the Central Office by the short cut through Gibbet Lane, bordering Solomon's Tower.
On an impulse he decided to call
