“Serious!  If my name were Hume-Frazer, nothing less than a runaway steam-engine would take me to Beechcroft.  I have never previously heard such a marvellous recital.”

“We are a stiff-necked race.  My uncle and cousin knew how strangely Fate had pursued every heir to the title, yet each hoped that in his person the tragic sequence would be broken.  Oddly enough, my father holds that the family curse, or whatever it is, has now exhausted itself.”

“What grounds has he for the belief?”

“None, save a Highlander’s readiness to accept signs and portents.  Look at this seal.”

He unfastened from his waistcoat his watch and chain, with a small bunch of pendants attached, and handed them to Brett.  The latter examined the seal with deep interest.  It was cut into a bloodstone, and showed a stag’s head, surmounted by five pointed rays, like a crown of daggers.

“I cannot decipher the motto,” he said; “what is it?”

“Fortis et audax.”

“Hum!  ‘Strong and bold.’  A stiff-necked legend, too.”

He reached to his bookcase for Burke’s “General Armoury.”  After a brief search, he asked: 

“Do you know anything about heraldry?”

“Nothing whatever.”

“Then listen to this.  The crest of your, house is:  ’A stag’s head, erased argent, charged with a star of five rays gules.’  It is peculiar.”

“Yes, so my father says; but why does it appeal to you in that way?”

“Because ‘erased’ means, in this instance, a stag’s head torn forcibly from the body, the severed part being jagged like the teeth of a saw.  And ‘gules’ means ‘red.’  Now, such heraldic rays are usually azure or blue.”

“By Jove, you have hit upon the old man’s idea.  He contends that those five blood-coloured points signify the founder of the baronetcy and his four lineal descendants.  Moreover, the race is now extinct in the direct succession.  The title goes to a collateral branch.”

Brett stroked his chin thoughtfully.

“It is certainly very strange,” he murmured, “that the dry-as-dust knowledge of some member of the College of Heralds should evolve these armorial bearings with their weird significance.  Does this account for your allusion to the supernatural?”

“Partly.  Do not forget my dream.”

“Tell it to me.”

“During the trials, my counsel, a very able man, by the way—­you know him, of course, Mr. Dobbie, K.C.—­only referred to the fact that I dreamed my cousin was in some mortal danger, and that my exclamation ’He is murdered!’ was really a startled comment on my part induced by the butler’s words.  That is not correct.  I never told Mr. Dobbie the details of my dream, or vision.”

“Oh, didn’t you?  Men have been hanged before to-day because they thought they could construct a better line of defence than their counsel.”

“I had nothing to defend.  I was innocent.  Moreover, I knew I should not be convicted.”