Death at Glamis Castle by Robin Paige Page A

his seat. “The castle is not far away. It seems that you will be able to see it, after all.”
    â€œBut why, for heaven’s sake,” Kate asked, as she gathered her things. “Why would King Edward send you here? What could threaten the peace and security of the realm in such an out-of-the-way place as this?”
    Charles picked up her portmanteau. “Perhaps Lord Strathmore will be able to tell us. Do you recall meeting him and his wife at Marlborough House several years ago?”
    â€œOh, yes,” Kate said, remembering the dinner that then-Princess Alexandra had given. Lord Strathmore was a hawk-nosed, stern-faced elderly gentleman, Lady Strathmore sweet and motherly. She should be glad to see them both—although why she and Charles and a trainful of troops and bicycles should have been sent to Glamis Castle, she couldn’t possibly imagine.
    A few minutes later, Kate was alighting from the train into the chilly morning mist that shrouded the tall, redtrunked Scotch pines. She shivered with a sudden chill, despite her warm motoring coat. The Glamis station consisted of a mossy and damp-stained brick platform along either side of the double tracks, with a depot on one side and the stationmaster’s house on the other, the whole overhung with gloomy pines. A little distance beyond the end of the train, a stone bridge arched over the tracks, carrying the road.
    A fair-haired young gentleman sporting a neat blond mustache and wearing a wool cap and a tan mackintosh detached himself from a small group of men and wagons at the rear of the platform and came quickly toward them.
    â€œLord Sheridan,” he said with a tight smile, offering his hand. “Welcome to Glamis. I was beginning to fear that something had happened to you.”
    â€œIt’s good to see you, Andrew,” Charles said. He set down the portmanteau and shook the man’s hand. “There was some sort of difficulty with a steam valve. It delayed us in Perth for several hours.”
    â€œIt’s no matter, now that you’re here. I was sorry to interrupt your holiday, but pleased that we managed to locate you.” The man—Andrew Kirk-Smythe, who had sent the mysterious telegram summoning Charles—caught sight of Kate and hurriedly lifted his hat. “My dear Lady Sheridan, a pleasure, as always.”
    â€œHello, Andrew,” Kate said, offering her hand with a smile. She probed his face for an answer to the mystery of their summons but could read nothing there.
    â€œHer ladyship was with me when I received your telegram,” Charles said. “I trust that her coming along presents no special difficulty.” He smiled and said in a lighter tone, “You know our Kate, Andrew. She would not have allowed me to send her back home, even had I wished it.”
    â€œOf course there’s no difficulty,” Kirk-Smythe replied. “I anticipated her coming, so I arranged for you both to be accommodated at Glamis Castle. Lord and Lady Strathmore are traveling abroad, but Lord Strathmore telegraphed their regards from Calcutta. They are delighted to have you as their guests.”
    Glamis Castle! Kate suppressed a little shiver of pleasure. She would not only see the most historic castle in Scotland, she would actually stay there—she and Beryl Bardwell, who was looking for inspiration for the next book. The opportunity seemed heaven-sent.
    Colonel Paddington came up, and Kirk-Smythe drew himself to attention. “Captain Andrew Kirk-Smythe,” he said, introducing himself. “Welcome to Glamis, Colonel.”
    So Andrew was a captain now, Kate thought approvingly. Since he had been a mere lieutenant at their first meeting, he had done well.
    â€œI realize that you weren’t given much time, Colonel Paddington,” Kirk-Smythe was saying in a deferential, apologetic tone, “but you’ve obviously succeeded in assembling your detachment in quite good