The Stowmarket Mystery | Page 7

to use poor

Alan gently. Even his foolish and unreasonable jealousy was a
compliment."
Brett threw the scrap-book on to the table. He clasped his hands in front
of his knees, tucking his heels on the edge of his chair.
"Mr. Hume," he said slowly, gazing fixedly at the other, "I believe you.
You did not kill your cousin."
CHAPTER III
THE DREAM
"Thank you," was the quiet answer.
"You hinted at some supernatural influence in relation to this crime.
What did you mean?"
"Ah, that is the unpublished part of the affair. We are a Scots family, as
our name implies. The first Sir Alan Frazer became a baronet owing to
his services to King George during the '45 Rebellion. There was some
trouble about a sequestered estate--now our place in Scotland--which
belonged to his wife's brother, a Hume and a rebel. Anyhow, in 1763,
he fought a duel with Hume's son, his own nephew by marriage, and
was killed."
"Really," broke in Brett, "this ancient history--"
"Is quite to the point. Sir Alan the first fought and died in front of the
library at Beechcroft."
The barrister commenced to study the moulding in the centre of the
ceiling.
"He was succeeded by his grandson, a little lad of eight. In 1807, after a
heavy drinking bout, the second Sir Alan Hume-Frazer cut his throat,
and chose the scene of his ancestor's duel for the operation."

"A remarkable coincidence!"
"In 1842, during a bread riot, the third baronet was stabbed with a
pitchfork whilst facing a mob in the same place. Then a long interval
occurred. Again a small child became the heir. Three years ago the
fourth baronet expired whilst the library windows were being opened to
admit the litter on which he was carried from the hunting-field. The fate
of the fifth you know."
Brett's chair emitted a series of squeaks as he urged it closer to the wall.
At the proper distance he stretched out his leg and pressed an electric
bell with his toe.
"Decanters and syphons, Smith," he cried, when the door opened.
"Which do you take, whisky or brandy, Mr. Hume?" he inquired.
"Whisky. But I assure you I am quite serious. These things--"
"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