Blood Line Read Free

'
    'Then you must deputise for me.'
    'Me? How?'
    'You're the head of the house when I'm not around. What you do is read them stories, tuck them up in bed. Get in some practice for fatherhood. Might come in very useful some day.'
    Vince groaned. 'God grant that "some day" is a million years away.' And consulting his pocket watch, 'As a matter of fact, Stepfather, I'm engaged to meet friends at Rutherford's within the hour. And I don't see how...'
    Faro sighed impatiently. Domesticity was going to be damnably inconvenient with something in the offing that his every instinct told him was a case of murder.
     

Chapter Two
     
    Sir Eric Haston-Lennard was an Orcadian who had been a good friend to Jeremy Faro's mother when her policeman husband was killed in Edinburgh. On retiral, with a knighthood, from the diplomatic service in India and Canada, appointed Keeper of Her Majesty's Historical Records in Scotland, he had been delighted to discover that young Jeremy was now Senior Detective Inspector Faro of the Edinburgh City Police.
    A bachelor, fast becoming a recluse, Sir Eric had an apartment within the Castle, where Faro was always most cordially welcomed for a gossip, a dram and a hand at cards or chess. As befitted his illustrious role, where historical records existed of the long and turbulent history of Scotland and of Edinburgh in particular, Sir Eric's ability to track down ancient documents was of great assistance to the law.
    Faro followed the uniformed guard along the cold stone corridor past the old royal lodging where unhappy, disillusioned Mary Queen of Scots sought refuge for her lying in. There, in a room not much larger than Mrs Brook's pantry, she had given birth to the future King James VI.
    There was, however, nothing in the least melancholy about the large room into which Faro was ushered. The high walls were covered from wainscot to ceiling by an imposing gallery of paintings of Scottish monarchs. Neither historic nor contemporary, alas, they were the work of one imaginative artist, commissioned to impress the visiting monarch King George IV in 1822 with an imposing turnout of royal Stuart ancestors.
    Announced, Faro thought the drawing room to be empty at first glance. No doubt Sir Eric would shortly appear from the direction of his study. Meanwhile he would enjoy the photographs of modern royalty, splendid examples of that new and magical art now taking Britain by storm. There was Sir Eric with Her Majesty and members of the royal family at Balmoral Castle. Again, Sir Eric in the uniform of the Queen's Royal Company of Archers being graciously received at Holyrood Palace. A silver-framed likeness held the place of honour. It showed Her Majesty in state robes and was signed, 'To Sir Eric, a devoted servant, Victoria R.'
    'Inspector Faro?'
    He put down the photograph guiltily and swung round to find the occupant of Sir Eric's high-backed chair had stepped into the candlelight. Faro was a little taken aback to find himself face to face not with his grizzled old friend, but with a very pretty girl in her early twenties. Now laying aside the book she held, she came forward, hand outstretched to greet him.
    'How do you do? Sir Eric has been detained at Holyrood, I'm afraid, some boring royal business.'
    Her handshake was strong and more to the point, it was surprising. Did she not know that etiquette demanded that well-bred young ladies should not touch a man's hand until they were formally introduced? Who the devil was she?
    Bowing, he said, 'I'm so sorry to have inconvenienced you. I will return later. Perhaps you will tell Sir Eric when he arrives.'
    'Wait. You're surely not going?'
    'Well - yes.'
    As Faro hesitated, she said eagerly, 'If you arc not in a desperate hurry - please be my guest.' The invitation was accompanied by a winning smile.
    'He should be here directly. And now, Inspector Faro, tell me all about yourself.' At Faro's startled expression, she said, 'We are not complete strangers you know. I