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the purpose of Maureen Hymes's visit—a sorry tale that was quite at odds with this peaceful domestic setting, enhanced by candlelight whose flickering light in the mantelpiece mirror gave shimmering life to the landscapes in their gilt-framed oil paintings. A bowl of red roses added their sweet perfume to wax polish and cracking logs.
    "So, Stepfather, what are you going to do?"
    Faro swore under his breath, suddenly resentful of being thrust into a situation he felt was growing rapidly out of his control. It was upon such occasions that he paused to wonder what God-forsaken destiny had led him to the Edinburgh City Police instead of a farmer's life in Orkney, which his mother would have dearly loved.
    He shook his head. "I don't know, but sometimes I think I chose the wrong job. Or maybe I'm just getting too old for it."
    Vince smiled. "Now, Stepfather, that's not like you. You're just tired. Tomorrow and a good night's rest, and everything will look quite different. Believe me."
     

Chapter 4
     
    Two days later a letter addressed to "Inspector Faro" arrived from Glasgow. It said briefly that Maureen Hymes had died that same night she returned from Edinburgh. "Her last words were for you. Tell the Inspector to remember his promise.'"
    Faro thrust it across the breakfast table. "Seems you were right in your diagnosis, lad."
    "Poor creature," said Vince as he read. "You know, it often happens like that with twins, particularly identical more than fraternal ones. Curiously, their life-span is the same, and when one dies the other does not long survive." Handing the letter back, he said, "Well, Stepfather, what are you going to do now?"
    "I don't see what I can do."
    Vince smiled. "Come now, a promise is a promise, Stepfather."
    "The poor woman is dead."
    Vince shook his head. "That is beside the point. Where, may I ask, is your chivalry?"
    "Killed stone dead by twenty years with the police, I expect." Faro sighed. "You do talk nonsense sometimes, lad. Can you imagine me persuading the Superintendent that I want to reopen the Hymes murder case—on the dying wish of his sister?"
    Vince pushed aside his breakfast egg before replying. "Has the thought not struck you that there might be some other clue that wasn't followed up in the evidence? After all, they did miss Ferris's photograph when you were off the case. Shall we have a shot at it, Stepfather?"
    "We?"
    "Of course." Vince took a piece of toast and buttered it thoughtfully. "Of course. I intend to lend a hand whenever available on the assumption—begging your pardon—that two heads are better than one. With my still somewhat scanty medical knowledge and your powers of deduction, I think we might make the perfect team. You know, Stepfather, I've always had a fancy to play policeman." He grinned. "Frankly, I didn't care for you when you came courting Mama—"
    "I did notice," said Faro.
    Vince nodded. "Actually, it was my secret pride at having a policeman in our family that completely converted me to having you as stepfather. How I bragged to everyone at school!"
    Faro smiled. "I'm glad there was something to redeem me in your eyes. You were far from the easiest of children."
    "I was an absolute horror," Vince admitted cheerfully. "So—you will let me help. Between us, we might even produce a second murderer, and wouldn't that make your policemen jolly uncomfortable!"
    "I shouldn't entertain too many hopes there, lad. If he existed, and if he's wise, he will have disappeared long since. The trail is cold and whatever we find it can't help Hymes or his sister now."
    "Hymes was an idiot. You have to admit that, Stepfather."
    Faro shook his head sadly. "You're young yet. The crime passionnel is the most brutal of murders to our civilised minds, the one we are least likely to excuse or forgive, of love gone sour. It is also the most frequent in the annals of crime. You haven't any idea yet what savagery can arouse even the most timid of husbands when he feels that he has