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access to Balmoral Castle.
    Vince was arguing with the cab driver who was unwilling to tackle the last hundred yards of almost vertical climb from the ornate gates to the front door. Receiving his fare he dismissed his passengers brusquely and drove off leaving them to puff up the steep drive.
    Faro sighed. 'Times have indeed changed. One would imagine he was doing us a great favour, bringing us here at all.'
    'It's going down rather than up they really fear, Stepfather. They reckon that wealthy folk like the Baron who choose to live on inaccessible hilltops can afford their own sturdy carriages to bring up their affluent guests. Besides the exercise will do us good,' he added with a cheerful grin.
    'Don't you think I get enough of that every day in Edinburgh?' grumbled Faro.
    The driveway emerged on to a terrace which again afforded a panoramic view of the hills of Fife. The university town of St Andrews with its spires was minutely visible and to the west the faint undulating slopes of the Grampian Mountains.
    Faro whistled. 'Well, that makes it almost worth the climb. What a magnificent landscape.'
    'And one which is even better from the drawing room and the upstairs windows.'
    Narrowing his eyes, Faro said: 'The bridge will certainly look most impressive when it's finished.'
    'Sir Arnold is banking on it. He has, I understand, sunk a considerable part of his fortune into the construction. His engineering works supply the nuts and bolts, his weavers supply the cloth for sacking, overalls—'
    'Overalls? That is progress indeed.'
    'He firmly believes in attending to the needs and comfort as well as the safety of his workers. They eat a good nourishing meal once a day too, compliments of the firm. A splendid canteen, I can assure you and one I am often very grateful to patronise.'
    'Less fortunate workers must envy them. Sounds quite idyllic.'
    Vince frowned. 'It does—but alas, progress has a knack, which I'm sure you've noticed, of crushing the helpless who cannot keep up with it.'
    'How so?' asked Faro as they climbed an imposing set of stone steps guarded by two ferocious heraldic lions.
    'The working conditions give me cause for concern. Small wonder they need a resident doctor,' whispered Vince as he rang the doorbell. 'I am constantly dealing with terrible—and, I feel, quite unnecessary—accidents and maimings. The men blame shoddy materials and unsafe conditions of work. Some have even tried, poor beggars, or their dependants have tried, to bring Deane's to court.' He laughed grimly. 'But Wilfred is too smart for them.'
    'Wilfred?'
    'Sir Arnold's second cousin. He's a lot younger, of course.'
    So that was the Wilfred Deane who had been set upon by McGowan.
    The door was opened by a butler. 'Dr Laurie to see Miss Deane, if you please.'
    'Are you expected, sir?'
    'No, I am not. But here is my card—and my stepfather's.'
    Faro produced his card which the butler consulted gravely before transferring it to the silver tray. 'If you will be seated, gentlemen, I will see if Miss Deane is at home to receive you.'
    As they waited, Faro marvelled at this replica of a vast medieval hall. Ghostly suits of armour, ancient flags and every degree of opulence surrounded them. A huge log fire burned in a stone fireplace, wastefully consuming what looked like whole trees to keep warm no one in particular.
    Occasionally he glanced at his stepson's excited face, flushed and smiling, a lover's face of anticipation and longing as he tapped his foot impatiently.
    Faro meanwhile tried to suppress his own anxieties. A veritable parade of dismal practical questions surged through his mind, concerning Vince's ability to support a wife accustomed to such a life-style as that in evidence.
    The butler returned, carrying his silver tray which still bore their cards. 'I regret, gentlemen, that Miss Deane is not at home.'
    'You mean she is out?' said Vince in tones of surprise.
    'I mean, sir, that she is not at home,' the butler replied