But it seemed that the Superintendent's laugh had a hollow sound and Faro could not shake off a sense of looming disaster.
The word 'safer' continued to haunt him and he left an urgent message for McQuinn on his way out of the office before returning briefly to Sheridan Place to thrust toilet articles, nightshirt and change of linen into a travelling bag.
As he closed his front door, he would have been happier with a more plausible explanation than the romantic supposition provided by Superintendent McIntosh of how the Grand Duchess of Luxoria had escaped presumably quite unhurt from an overturned carriage approaching Edinburgh one stormy night on the North Berwick road.
And, more important, what kind of woman was this, who would disappear with her lover without a second thought to the fate of a coachman as well as her closest friend and companion?
If McIntosh were wrong, and Faro was certain that there was no lover involved, it was even more baffling. The Duchess had to have an accomplice, otherwise how had she got herself, a lone woman from a foreign country, with no experience of travel in Scotland, to the remote Royal residence of Balmoral Castle, two hundred miles away in Aberdeenshire? To complete such a journey, to arrive safely and thereupon to have access, unchallenged, to the royal drawing-room, would have presented a daunting prospect for any British national. For a foreign duchess who was used to having all arrangements planned in elaborate detail, to make such a journey unaided was beyond belief.
Beyond belief. Faro sighed, for that summed it up exactly. And instead of becoming clearer, the whole bizarre situation aroused every instinct for caution. In his vast experience of intrigue and crime, the pointers indicated a great deal of misinformation still to be unravelled. The signs also suggested that he was running out of time. He had better discover the truth quickly.
If he wished to stay healthy - and alive.
Chapter 18
Faro met Vince on the doorstep.
'Good! I left a note for you. I haven't much time, lad. A train to catch -' And drawing Vince inside he told him of the Queen's letter and his growing suspicions. This time he omitted nothing.
'But this is incredible. It can't be -' Vince protested.
'It is, I assure you. At the same time and with so much at stake, I'd give anything in the world to be proved wrong,' he added sadly.
Vince looked at him. 'You're going to need some help. And I'm committed to our damned Perth golf tournament.'
'You can't let down the team, lad.'
Faro listened carefully as Vince outlined his arrangements.
'At least we'll be heading in the same direction.'
'Damn the golf, Stepfather. Lives are at stake. Actually, it will fit in very well if I appear to be going there - I'll think of some last-minute excuse. In fact, I have a plan -'
Faro listened and shook his head. 'I don't want you involved in this,' he protested. 'I only want you to be in full possession of the facts - you know where to find them in my study - in case,' he added grimly, 'anything goes wrong -'
As he left the train at Aberlethie halt and walked through the grounds to Lethie Castle, Faro reflected on the fleeting interview with Vince, when he had had little time to do more than confide his suspicions. What if they were wrong and he had set in motion a tide of what was merely superstition?
He was shown into the drawing-room, where the Lethies appeared to be expecting him. Miss Fortescue was nowhere to be seen. He was glad of her absence so that he could test carefully the reactions of Sir Terence to the Prime Minister's summons.
When he produced the letter the Lethies could not conceal their relief. No one could blame them for being glad that someone was going to take the responsibility of their visitor off their hands. No matter how welcoming they had been, her presence would be an embarrassment as they prepared to depart for France.
As Lady Lethie rang the bell and a maid was sent for Miss Fortescue, Faro said: 'I understand your housekeeper had quite a scare. Thought there had been a burglary.'
'Burglary?' Sir Terence, still preoccupied with the contents of the letter Faro had produced, looked at him blankly. Then as realisation dawned, he laughed. 'Oh, the Luck o' Lethie, you mean. All a mistake, as your sergeant has no doubt told you. Come with me.'
Sir Terence led the way across the hall to the library, eager to show Faro that all was well. There on the wall in its glass cabinet was the Luck o' Lethie. 'See for yourself. No harm done, that should put your mind at rest.'
'You mean it was never stolen?'
'No. Mislaid.' And Sir Terence closed his lips firmly in the manner of one prepared to say no more on that particular subject.
Faro examined the cabinet and, turning, regarded him sternly. 'I understand that this is a very valuable object of great historical importance. May I suggest that in future you keep it under lock and key as a deterrent to thieves?'
That idea had clearly never occurred to its owner. 'My dear Inspector,' Sir Terence pointed to the ancient case. 'It has hung there for, well, hundreds of years, and it has never been in any danger from thieves -'
'Times have changed, Sir Terence. As you are probably aware, crime is on the increase and we have travelled a long way from the days when lairds were regarded by their clansmen as sacrosanct and only a little lower than God.'
This particular laird clearly did not like such a reminder. 'I have to tell you, Inspector, that my tenants are one hundred per cent reliable - to the last man,' he snapped.
'Nevertheless, this suspected burglary has now been recorded in my office. Such matters are regarded as very serious offences -'
'As I told your sergeant,' Sir Terence
