'You are cold, m'dear. Let us return to the house. You will come with us, Inspector, take some refreshment.'
As he accompanied them he realised no one had asked him his business there, or why he had suddenly appeared as they were talking by the tomb.
They were much too polite. In fact no one showed the slightest curiosity about his presence. As if a visit from a detective inspector investigating the mysterious non-arrival of the Queen's god-daughter was a commonplace event in their lives.
Surely the first question his appearance should have aroused in that conspiratorial group he had disturbed was: 'What news of Her Highness?'
Chapter 9
As they walked towards the house, Faro's responses to Sir Terence's remarks about weather, crops and estate management were quite automatic. One of his useful accomplishments was the ability to carry on an agreeable conversation while his mind dealt with more important matters.
The Crusader, David de Lethie, had been a Templar, bearing the cross pattee on his shield. That Sir Hedley Marsh was connected with them, too, was evident from the chapel, so unexpectedly immaculate amid the squalor of Solomon's Tower. And from Vince, Faro knew that Sir Terence was a Templar as well as being a Grand Master in the Freemasons, whose origins and rituals were based on that society. But of perhaps even greater significance, Major Weir, the seventeenth-century owner of the Wizard's House, had also been a Templar. That he had terrified citizens by his identification with the devil and his ability to perform magic tricks, Faro was sure fitted somewhere into a pattern concerning the dead woman's identity and the reason for her death.
Faro sighed, wishing he could interpret, above Lethie's polite remarks, the low-pitched murmurings between Sir Hedley and Miss Fortescue. Was there some conspiratorial connection between these three people, some deadly link with the gold cross on its broken chain in Weir's Land?
He was rapidly discarding his original suspicion that a murder had taken place in the West Bow. All the evidence suggested that she had already been dead when she was carried into the Wizard's House.
' As he sat politely through the ritual of afternoon tea, served with great elegance by Lady Lethie, his eye wandered constantly in the direction of Miss Fortescue. She was not only extremely good to look at, he decided, but she also had undeniable presence, the aura of authority that was perhaps the first requirement of a royal lady-in-waiting.
Sir Hedley Marsh sat at her side and monopolised her completely. While she gave smiling, patient answers to some bumbling nonsense about fishing in Dunsapie Loch, Faro considered what measures he must take to direct this pleasant but ineffectual teatime conversation towards the object of his visit: namely, the promised photograph or picture of Duchess Amelie, now so vital to his search.
The clock melodiously chimed four, reminding him that the train from North Berwick to Edinburgh was due at the Aberlethie halt in less than an hour.
'May I help you to a piece of cake?' said Lady Lethie with an encouraging smile, aware of his empty plate and distracted air.
'No, thank you. I wonder - the photograph?' he reminded her gently.
Although the words were spoken quietly, his question succeeded in bringing all conversation to an abrupt end.
Sara Lethie smiled at him vaguely, shaking her head in the apologetic manner of one who had forgotten entirely: 'Of course. Of course, you wanted a photograph, didn't you.' And to her husband. 'Terence - do we have a picture somewhere?'
Sir Terence responded with alacrity. 'No, my dear. Not in the album, I've already had a glance.' And to Faro: 'I did think we had one taken at Holyrood, but I must have been mistaken.'
'Would have been a long time ago. Mere child. Not much use to you now, I'm afraid,' Sir Hedley put in.
Faro turned to Miss Fortescue. 'What about you, miss? Do you happen to possess a recent photograph of your mistress?'
Miss Fortescue shook her head sadly. 'There was one, very recent - a present for Her Majesty, you know. In a silver frame. But I'm afraid it is beneath the waters of the Forth now, with all the rest of our possessions.'
Faro stood up abruptly. So that was that. His journey to Aberlethie had been a waste of time when he could have been pursuing more urgent and productive enquiries in Edinburgh. But not one of these polite, well-bred people thought that an apology was due for his wasted effort.
'If you will forgive me. My train, you know.'
'Of course, Inspector. Of course. Sorry you must leave us,' said Terence with undue heartiness. An angry and frustrated Faro felt that was a lie. They were not in the least sorry to see the back of him.
Then as if his urgent thoughts had communicated themselves to Miss Fortescue, she rose to her feet.
'If Inspector Faro is ready to leave now, I will walk with him to the railway halt.'
The Lethies exchanged worried glances. They sprang to their feet, followed a little creakily by Sir Hedley. For a moment, Faro had an unhappy feeling that they were all coming too. With relief he realised it as just another gesture of politeness. Or was it Miss Fortescue's thinly veiled frown of annoyance that quelled all three?
Miss Fortescue waited while Sara Lethie picked up a shawl and draped it about her shoulders. Their backs were turned to Faro but on that moment of stillness he had a strange feeling that uneasy glances were exchanged. Uneasy and warning, perhaps?
And then it was over and Sir Terence was showing them to the door, cordially shaking hands with Faro. Waving them farewell he anxiously regarded the sky.
'Rain's not far off, you're - um, going to get wet. Shall I fetch an umbrella?'
'I shall be quite all right,' said Miss Fortescue. She sounded rather cross, and her manner was suddenly that of someone who heartily disliked being fussed over. She set
