faces, that it was too late.'
Dewar stopped and glanced at Faro who was studying the ground curiously. 'Is there something wrong, sir?'
'Has there been much rain since the accident?'
Dewar clearly thought this an odd question. 'Not more than a few showers, sir. We're having a dry spell.'
Kneeling down, Faro examined the ground, ran the soil though his fingers, but any evidence had long since returned to dust. A few weeks was enough to obliterate the churned-up mud which might have preserved evidence of two riders side by side, and even of a charging animal.
Dewar watched, too polite to ask the burning questions brought about by such strange behaviour.
Faro straightened up, smiled at him. 'Footprints and horses' hoofs, sharp and clear, can tell us a lot. Did you notice anything unusual?'
And when Dewar looked merely puzzled, Faro pointed: 'About the ground, I mean.'
Dewar thought for a moment. 'Odd that you should ask, sir.' And rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 'When I came back with the others, I walked around -' He grinned. 'Just the policeman in me, sir. Can't help that. And when the doctor said that Sir Archie had been gored, I wondered about the bull's hoofprints.'
'There were some?'
'No, sir, that's what was odd. There weren't any. Nothing to indicate the churned-up ground a great heavy angry beast would make charging down on someone.'
'Did you point it out to Sergeant Yarrow?'
Dewar looked embarrassed. 'Yes, I did. But he wasn't impressed. I don't blame him,' he added hastily. 'He's a city policeman really, and they don't see things like country folk born and bred. Besides,' he added reluctantly, 'he does make a bit of fun of me, says I'm always on the lookout, hoping for a crime but that I'd never recognise one if it stared me in the face.'
His voice was sad, then he laughed. 'He's probably right, sir. Crimes are the last thing he wants. And you can understand that, after all he's been through, he values a peaceful life above all things. Not like me, I've never had much chance of real crime,' he added in tones of wistful regret.
Faro smiled. Such reaction fitted in with Yarrow's relaxed attitude to crime; however, if Dewar's observations were correct, the omission of hoofprints should have perturbed him considerably. He said consolingly: 'Well, you were quite right to bring it to Sergeant Yarrow's attention, even the smallest thing can be of importance.'
'I could have been wrong. I admit that. The rescue party from the castle with horses and the like would have covered up any other tracks.'
He paused, looking back towards the village, remembering. 'I told Her Ladyship. She was very upset and there was a great deal of bustle in the house. Maids rushing this way and that. The other gentleman, the one with the beard, that had been riding with His Lordship, he was leaving. He seemed to be in a great hurry.'
Dewar shook his head, at a loss to know how to continue but with condemnation in every line of his face. 'A very important guest, he was,' he said heavily. Again he hesitated, aware that Faro was a stranger, then he continued: 'As you maybe know, sir, His Lordship is - was - equerry to the Prince of Wales. You'd have thought in the circumstances he'd have waited...'
His lip curled scornfully, indicating more than any words, his contempt for this very important guest who did not even stay long enough to see Sir Archie carried home, to comfort his bereaved family and respectfully see him laid to rest.
Did Dewar know the identity of the bearded gentleman? It was quite outside the strict purpose of police procedure laid down for the protection of royalty for the local police not to be informed of the Prince's incognito. It indicated that the Northumberland Constabulary treated such visitors much more casually than the Edinburgh City Police, where royalty brought safety measures to a fever pitch of activity.
Presumably Sergeant Yarrow had been lulled into a false sense of security by the Chief Constable
Dewar stopped and glanced at Faro who was studying the ground curiously. 'Is there something wrong, sir?'
'Has there been much rain since the accident?'
Dewar clearly thought this an odd question. 'Not more than a few showers, sir. We're having a dry spell.'
Kneeling down, Faro examined the ground, ran the soil though his fingers, but any evidence had long since returned to dust. A few weeks was enough to obliterate the churned-up mud which might have preserved evidence of two riders side by side, and even of a charging animal.
Dewar watched, too polite to ask the burning questions brought about by such strange behaviour.
Faro straightened up, smiled at him. 'Footprints and horses' hoofs, sharp and clear, can tell us a lot. Did you notice anything unusual?'
And when Dewar looked merely puzzled, Faro pointed: 'About the ground, I mean.'
Dewar thought for a moment. 'Odd that you should ask, sir.' And rubbing his chin thoughtfully, 'When I came back with the others, I walked around -' He grinned. 'Just the policeman in me, sir. Can't help that. And when the doctor said that Sir Archie had been gored, I wondered about the bull's hoofprints.'
'There were some?'
'No, sir, that's what was odd. There weren't any. Nothing to indicate the churned-up ground a great heavy angry beast would make charging down on someone.'
'Did you point it out to Sergeant Yarrow?'
Dewar looked embarrassed. 'Yes, I did. But he wasn't impressed. I don't blame him,' he added hastily. 'He's a city policeman really, and they don't see things like country folk born and bred. Besides,' he added reluctantly, 'he does make a bit of fun of me, says I'm always on the lookout, hoping for a crime but that I'd never recognise one if it stared me in the face.'
His voice was sad, then he laughed. 'He's probably right, sir. Crimes are the last thing he wants. And you can understand that, after all he's been through, he values a peaceful life above all things. Not like me, I've never had much chance of real crime,' he added in tones of wistful regret.
Faro smiled. Such reaction fitted in with Yarrow's relaxed attitude to crime; however, if Dewar's observations were correct, the omission of hoofprints should have perturbed him considerably. He said consolingly: 'Well, you were quite right to bring it to Sergeant Yarrow's attention, even the smallest thing can be of importance.'
'I could have been wrong. I admit that. The rescue party from the castle with horses and the like would have covered up any other tracks.'
He paused, looking back towards the village, remembering. 'I told Her Ladyship. She was very upset and there was a great deal of bustle in the house. Maids rushing this way and that. The other gentleman, the one with the beard, that had been riding with His Lordship, he was leaving. He seemed to be in a great hurry.'
Dewar shook his head, at a loss to know how to continue but with condemnation in every line of his face. 'A very important guest, he was,' he said heavily. Again he hesitated, aware that Faro was a stranger, then he continued: 'As you maybe know, sir, His Lordship is - was - equerry to the Prince of Wales. You'd have thought in the circumstances he'd have waited...'
His lip curled scornfully, indicating more than any words, his contempt for this very important guest who did not even stay long enough to see Sir Archie carried home, to comfort his bereaved family and respectfully see him laid to rest.
Did Dewar know the identity of the bearded gentleman? It was quite outside the strict purpose of police procedure laid down for the protection of royalty for the local police not to be informed of the Prince's incognito. It indicated that the Northumberland Constabulary treated such visitors much more casually than the Edinburgh City Police, where royalty brought safety measures to a fever pitch of activity.
Presumably Sergeant Yarrow had been lulled into a false sense of security by the Chief Constable
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