The Missing Duchess
Faro a curious look. 'Any developments with your West Bow vagrant?' he asked eagerly.
    Faro hesitated then shook his head, anxious that the fewer who knew about the missing woman, the better for all concerned. Particularly himself. So he decided against mentioning Miss Fortescue, realising that however loyal a cousin, the newsman who was also Godwin might find the temptation of pursuing such a story irresistible, thereby making it public property with results that would be nothing short of disastrous.
    Leslie had observed his hesitation, for he smiled. 'I scent a story somewhere.'
    'I'm afraid we didn't get very far with our enquiries.'
    'I've seen that lad who found her a few times, by the way. Sandy, wasn't that his name? Batey caught him with his hand in my pocket the other day. He lives just round the corner in one of the tall lands, Bowheads Wynd, they call it.'
    This was an unexpected stroke of luck. 'There are a few questions I'd like to ask him about that night.'
    Godwin looked at him. 'D'you know, I had the same feeling. That he knew a lot more than he was telling us. For instance, I shouldn't be at all surprised if he knew what happened to the woman's clothes.'
    'Clothes?' Faro was a little taken aback by this astute observation.
    Godwin laughed. 'Surely, Jeremy, you saw at once that the dead woman was no vagrant. Such hair and hands never went with a beggar's gown. They belonged with silks and satins, with jewels and fine clothes.'
    'So you think they might have been removed?'
    Leslie nodded eagerly. 'Undoubtedly the case. And the lad Sandy might have been scared to rob a corpse himself but he would have soon seen the possibilities of making some profit out of those who don't share such a sense of delicacy. It was probably all taken care of, long before he was sent to summon the police.'
    'You could be right,' said Faro.
    'Of course I'm right.' Leslie continued: 'From my slight acquaintance with the Grassmarket, I see plenty of booths selling clothes for pennies. Mostly rags.'
    Pausing, he studied Faro thoughtfully. 'But what we might dismiss as rags might keep a poor family in food for a week.'
    Faro smiled wryly. Obviously he wasn't the only member of his family who had inherited the ability to observe and deduce.
    'A splendid idea, Leslie. Well worth following. But not what I came for - Shall we have dinner one night? Say, the Cafe Royal? Saturday evening at seven?'
    Accompanying him to the door, Godwin said: 'Look, I'd like to help. Seeing that I was in at the very beginning, there with you, so to speak, when the woman was found. If I see the lad Sandy again, I'll try and buy some information for you. A few pence might work wonders at loosening his tongue. Really - I mean it.'
    He put a hand on Faro's arm. 'I want to help you solve your beggar-woman mystery. Not only for the news value either.' He grinned. 'Just because I enjoy a challenge.'
    Faro left him and walked down the stone stairs, suddenly happy and confident. Having his cousin's assistance was exactly what he needed to solve this baffling case.

 
     
    Chapter 8
     
    Faro's route to the West Bow took him past the entrance to Bowheads Wynd, where he decided to call on young Sandy. A couple of shillings thrust into his hand, with the promise of more to come, should be ample to loosen the lad's tongue about his gruesome discovery and the events which took place before he summoned Constable Reid to the scene.
    Faro had to knock on several doors before he received even a scowling oath in response to his enquiry. Whereas his cousin's lodgings were merely shabby and poor, Bowheads Wynd was depressingly lacking in hope as well as cleanliness of any kind.
    From each opened door, his nose was overwhelmed by the stench of crowded humanity within. He remembered that these tall 'lands' had once been the pride of Edinburgh, town residences to the nobility, lived in by one family only - along with their many servants. Now each room on all six floors was occupied by

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