What had really happened that February night? And was the Queen of Scots implicated in the destruction of her odious husband, Lord Darnley? Now there was only hearsay, dry as dust. But if one could have been there to pick up the clues and prove Mary innocent, then her desperate plight might have changed the whole course of Scotland's history.
Such is the stuff dreams - or nightmares - are made of. And now, in like manner, Faro wished for a time machine that could carry him back to the scene of David de Lethie returning triumphant from the Crusades, bearing with him a strange trophy.
But tonight he was not the only pilgrim.
Miss Fortescue walked cautiously through the shrubbery. A manservant who had the unfortunate look of a gaoler hovered at a discreet distance, trying to look as if he hadn't been instructed to keep an eye on her.
It was an interesting idea, one which would bear further investigation, Faro thought as he stepped out of the shadow of the priory wall.
As for Miss Fortescue, she was not at all put out by his sudden appearance. She smiled. 'Why, Inspector Faro, I am so glad to see you. I have your cape. It is thoroughly dry now - if you would care to accompany me -' She motioned towards the castle.
'Of course.'
Opening her reticule she handed him a paper. 'I was to have this posted to you, Inspector. It is a list of the contents of the jewel box -'
After a quick glance Faro thrust it into his pocket, as Miss Fortescue continued: 'I hope it helps. It's the best I can do, until Her Highness can confirm the contents.'
Faro found this even more surprising. 'When do you think she is likely to arrive?' he asked politely.
'Oh, I've been thinking it over and I haven't the least doubt that she'll just walk in. Or send us a message from Balmoral. Her Highness is like that. She's very resourceful and impulsive.' She paused to let that sink in. 'But I am most concerned about that poor coachman.'
'Isn't it possible that he may be with her?'
She shook her head. 'I'm afraid that he may have been sent with a message and something has happened to him.' Her eyes filled with tears and she put a hand on his arm, gazing up into his face appealingly. She looked bewildered, overwhelmed by frightening circumstances entirely new in her hitherto sheltered life.
'What do you think we should do meanwhile, Inspector?'
'My colleagues and I are doing all we can to find out what happened. How much do you remember, miss?'
Again she shook her head. 'Only the fierce storm, the carriage swaying. A tree fell. And then - oblivion.'
'What was your last sight of Her Highness?'
'We were clinging to each other.' Her voice broke for an instant. 'The coachman yelled a warning. The bridge is down. I remember falling free of the carriage, rolling down the hill and hitting the water. I thought that was the end as I sank. Then I came to myself, my clothes dripping wet. I was lying on a load of hay. Being carried along a dark road. You know the rest, Inspector.'
He looked at her. 'What are you going to do now? Until such time as your mistress returns for you,' he added hastily.
She shrugged. 'Wait for instructions of some kind. I have no reason to return to Luxoria - if - if -' And in her eyes he read the words neither dared to say, in case by so doing they gave them the breath of life and a monstrous reality.
'What about your family and friends?' he asked gently.
'I have no commitment of any kind. As you probably realise, I am not a national.'
'You are British?'
'As Scottish as you are, Inspector,' she said proudly.
Faro bowed, not feeling this was the time or place to explain that Orcadians consider themselves from a country apart.
'The Queen is, as you know,' Miss Fortescue continued, 'much in favour of Scottish governesses and maids. There are such intimate connections between Her Majesty and most of our royal houses.'
She fell silent and Faro, anxious to return to the more urgent topic in hand, prompted her: 'When the storm interrupted us you were telling me what your mistress was wearing when the accident happened. A violet travelling cape with velvet trimming, was it not?'
'Yes.'
'And underneath?'
Miss Fortescue frowned. 'A blue merino dress, with long sleeves, an embroidered yoke and a quantity of lace around the neck.'
Faro would have given much at that moment to produce the piece of lace he had found in the West Bow. But the time was not yet ripe. He needed to know a great deal more about the part Miss Fortescue had played before producing such evidence.
'What jewellery was she wearing?'
Miss Fortescue thought. 'A sapphire and diamond ring, gold bracelets.' She rubbed her wrist nervously. 'In the shape of a snake with ruby eyes. No earrings. And a pendant.' And touching her throat, 'Yes, she always wore a pendant. Just a simple gold cross.'
Faro sighed. In that statement, Miss Fortescue was confirming his worst fears.
'And underneath the dress?'
Miss Fortescue was taken aback by the question. She blushed. 'The usual garments ladies wear, Inspector. Petticoats and so forth.'
She sounded offended but Faro persisted. 'Can you be a little more precise, miss?'
'No, I'm afraid I can't,' she said coldly.
Faro gave her a hard look. 'I presume that as lady-in-waiting and sole travelling companion, you were also in charge of her wardrobe and of dressing her each day.'
'I just can't remember, exactly.' She shook her head and pursed her
