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cats," Vince added. "Solomon's Tower is fairly ruinous."
    "Yes, but don't forget, it's also on a valuable site for this upsurge of property developing in Newington area."
    As they reached the gates of Sheridan Place, Faro found himself haunted by a picture of Mabel Kellar standing on the front steps, blowing a kiss to Vince.
    "Goodnight, Inspector. Goodnight, dear Vince, have a good holiday."
    A final wave as Dr Kellar drew her inside and closed the door.
    And that, thought Faro, coming back to the present and his unwritten report, was the last time any of us saw the police surgeon's wife.
    "Kellar is an absolute swine, treating her like that, in front of guests." And with a chill feeling of disaster, he remembered Vince's concluding words: "I could have snatched up one of those knives and plunged it into his black heart."
    But perhaps it was the warm-hearted Mabel who had been the victim of an assassin's carving knife.

Chapter 3
     
    The house had seemed strangely empty without young Vince's presence. In the longest separation since they had come to live in Sheridan Place, Faro realised that this was a prelude to the future when, sooner or later, he must face the prospect of living alone.
    Reasonably, he could hardly expect to have Vince with him for the rest of his life. Whatever his stepson's protestations. Faro had little doubt and fervently hoped that he would eventually fall in love and marry some suitable young lady. His wife, however, might be expected to produce excellent and convincing arguments against sharing their home with her husband's policeman stepfather.
    Faro said as much to Mrs Brook who was also feeling bereft of Vince's bright presence and gentle teasing. She looked shocked.
    "What an idea. Inspector sir. Why, there are your two wee girls growing up in Orkney. In a few years they will be ready to come to Edinburgh and do their duty by their papa." And with one of her sly looks, she added coyly, "That is, if there isn't a second Mrs Faro by then."
    Ignoring his gesture of impatient dismissal, she went on, "I do hope and pray to the good Lord every night that you will meet a nice lady of your own age some day, that I do, Inspector sir."
    Faro's disapproving sniff was the answer she expected. Any argument that he put forward would be totally ignored. From long experience he knew that dignified silence was the only weapon against romantically inclined females of a certain age. They should have known better, but persisted in regarding marriage as the rose-strewn path to 'happy-ever-after-land'.
    His mother and Mrs Brook were of one mind on the subject. But apart from occasional yearnings for a mate to share his bed and some of his dreams. Faro felt that the harmonious bachelor life had much to commend it and suited him well. The many daily hazards in a policeman's life made for poor husband material and he still suffered pangs of remorse recalling his neglect of poor Lizzie who had never once reproached him.
    "As long as I have the bairns, dear, I am never lonely." But the son they had both longed for after two daughters, had killed her.
    At least Rose and Emily, with the resilience of childhood, were now settling happily and healthily with their grandmother while his stepson, after completing his year as Dr Kellar's assistant, would open the ground floor of 9 Sheridan Place as the surgery and consulting rooms of Dr Vincent Beaumarcher Laurie, general practitioner of medicine.
    But without Vince's presence. Faro could hardly bear the Sunday afternoon ritual of tending the little grave in Greyfriars Kirkyard where Lizzie lay asleep with their baby at her side. He could still sob out loud at that bitter remembrance.
    Once, unbearably alone, he had thought to love again and he carefully avoided the pathway by the willow tree, haunted by memories of his first meeting with the beautiful actress he had dreamed so passionately and so fleetingly, of making his wife.
    Never, never again, he swore. Let others fall in