But why, when there were so many less tortuous ways a corpse could be disposed of? With plenty of water around, the River Forth was an obvious choice. Hopefully the body might drift out with the tide and never be seen again.
What was the purpose behind this sudden resurrection? He asked himself this as he watched the body being bundled on to a stretcher and carried down the hill by the two constables in the wake of Dr Cranley.
McQuinn remained with him, and now that the corpse had been removed, there was further evidence that its sojourn in the shrubbery had been brief. The leaves and grass where the body had lain were flattened but there was none of the yellow discolouration and decay that would have occurred had the vegetation been covered for several days.
'I had a walk round, sir, nothing to be seen out of the ordinary,' McQuinn added.
As Faro poked round the shrubbery with a stick and without much hope of finding anything significant, he smelt murder as well as decomposition in the air.
McQuinn frowned. 'It's only a thought, sir, but the fact that the man was drowned - well, do you think there could be a link with the missing Duchess?'
'I think there's a very strong possibility that they are connected.'
McQuinn nodded. 'Pity the newspapers couldn't produce a photograph of her. That would have been a great help. One thing I don't understand though, why keep the body - for a week?'
Faro would early have loved the answer to that question. All it indicated to him was that the assassin was getting nervous.
Of the Grand Duchess's entourage, only Miss Fortescue now remained alive.
But for how long?
Chapter 12
As Faro and McQuinn emerged from the shelter of the ruined chapel and prepared to rejoin the police carriage, they were hailed by a figure toiling up the hill.
It was Leslie Godwin, leading a horse, and on the path below, Sergeant Batey.
'Shall I wait, sir?' said McQuinn.
'No. You head back.'
Leslie approached Faro eagerly. 'I'm out later than usual. Missed my early-morning ride.' He gave his cousin a quizzical glance. 'I expect Vince will have told you. We had a somewhat convivial evening at the Spec.'
Faro smiled. No doubt Leslie's tough and dangerous existence though the years made him impervious to the excesses of high living. Although considerably older than Vince, Faro decided that his cousin was also in better shape than either of them.
As they watched the forlorn cavalcade descending the hill with their stretcher, Leslie explained: 'Saw your policemen gathered and - ' He grinned. 'You know me - I decided there must be a story. As soon as I spotted you, I knew I was right. So here I am.' He sat down on a nearby rock, anchoring his horse's reins.
'Well, what have you got to tell me?' At Faro's stern expression, he laughed. 'Not another mysterious corpse, I trust.'
When Faro frowned, his cousin's eyes widened. 'That was meant as a joke - not in the best of taste, I realise.'
Faro received this observation in silence and Leslie whistled. 'Some connection between the two, eh? Well now.'
Faro couldn't think of a reply and Leslie continued sternly. 'Come now, Jeremy, don't you think it's time you brought me into this? You know I want to help and, who knows, maybe I can -'
There isn't anything - ' Faro began hastily.
Leslie made a dismissive gesture. 'Please don't try to fob me off, I'm an old hand at the game,' he added in wounded tones. 'Besides, I know that you are involved in what might turn out to be a scandalous piece of international intrigue.'
Faro felt suddenly chilled. 'And what makes you think that?'
Leslie smiled. 'From hints dropped - confidentially, of course - at the Spec last night,' he added with an impish smile, 'I gathered that none other than the Grand Duchess of Luxoria had gone a missing.'
Damn Vince. Drink loosened his tongue. He had never learned to control that particular student weakness. Damn him, Faro thought angrily as Leslie continued: 'And I suddenly realised that this is where I might be able to help you.'
'In what way?'
'The best possible,' Leslie regarded him triumphantly. 'You see, I've been to Luxoria. A couple of years ago when I was travelling across Europe, I had the honour to be received by members of the Royal family - '
This was an unexpected piece of luck. Faro looked at him gratefully. 'You met the Grand Duchess?'
Leslie shook his head. 'Alas, no, she was absent, if you please, with her husband, the odious President. As nasty a situation as anyone could imagine, a piece of emotional blackmail worthy of any grand opera.'
'How so?'
'I got the general drift, that her family had literally sold her to save their skins, whatever they were pretending. You don't know the story?'
Faro did but he wanted to hear his cousin's version, which confirmed exactly what Miss Fortescue had confided in him. Then he added: 'He'd like to divorce Amelie and marry his mistress - if that wouldn't mean the end of his power.'
It was even worse that Faro had thought. The President had very good reason for disposing of the Grand Duchess, and a professional assassin could easily be bought for the kind of money the ruthless President was prepared to pay.
As they stumbled through the bracken, the short cut to the road far below, Faro turned and asked with sudden hope: 'Did you by any chance see any photographs of her?'
Leslie thought for a moment. 'I was only there very briefly, a few days. Hardly enough to do more than take a passing interest in my surroundings. There were some family paintings on the walls, sentimental reminders of the Royal Family in their heyday. But seventeen-year-old girls can
