that the 'quarrel' spoken of by
David had been renewed.

"He waited two minutes, not more, but hearing no further sounds, he walked
round to the library windows, thinking that perhaps he would see Sir Alan
in the room.

"To his dismay he found his young master stretched on the turf at the side
of the drive, thirty feet from the house. He rushed into the library,
where David was still asleep and moving uneasily--muttering, the man
thought:

"'Come quickly, sir,' he cried, 'I fear something has happened to Sir
Alan. He is lying on the ground outside the house, and I cannot arouse
him.'

"Then David Hume-Frazer sprang to his feet and shouted:

"'My God! It was not a dream. He is murdered!'

"Unquestionably--"

But the barrister's cold-blooded synopsis of a thrilling crime proved to
be too much for his hearer's nerves. Hume stood up. The man was a born
fighter. He could take, his punishment, but only on his feet.

Again he cried in anguish:

"No! It was no dream, but a foul murder. And they blame me!"

CHAPTER II

DAVID HUME'S STORY

Brett closed the book with a snap.

"What good purpose can it serve at this time to reopen the miserable
story?" he asked.

Curiously enough, Hume paid no heed to the question. His lips quivered,
his nostrils twitched, and his eyes shot strange gleams. He caught the
back of his chair with both hands in a grasp that tried to squeeze the
tough oak.

"What else have you written there?" he said, and Brett could not help but
admire his forced composure.

"Nothing of any material importance. You were arrested, after an interval
of some days, as the result of a coroner's warrant. You explained that you
had a vivid dream, in which you saw your cousin stabbed by a stranger whom
you did not know, whose face even you never saw. Sir Alan was undoubtedly
murdered. The dagger-like attachment to your Japanese sword had been
driven into his breast up to the hilt, actually splitting his heart. To
deliver such a blow, with such a weapon, required uncommon strength and
skill. I think I describe it here as 'un-English.'"

Brett referred to his scrap-book. In spite of himself, he felt all his old
interest reawakening in this remarkable crime.

"Yes?" queried Hume.

The barrister, his lips pursed up and critical, surveyed his concluding
notes.

"You were tried at the ensuing Assizes, and the jury disagreed. Your
second trial resulted in an acquittal, though the public attitude tow