"Have you seen it?"
"Yes, I spent a week there. It is among the most northern spurs of the Tyrolese Alps. When there, you cease to wonder that Percivale is so unlike other people. It is like going back into a past age. The peasantry are Arcadian to a degree, the spot remote beyond the imagination of English people. The nearest railway station leaves you a day's journey from Schwannberg. Do you know Defregger's Tyrolese pictures? All the people are just like that. Over the door of every room in the castle is carved the swan, which is the family crest."
"But his father was English, I think you said?"
"Why—yes—I never thought of that. The arms must belong to the other side of the family, I suppose," said Claud, thoughtfully. "That is rather odd, certainly."
He turned with a start. Osmond Allonby was standing before them.
"Wyn, I'm sorry to interrupt you but we must really be going. We are almost the last."
The girl rose at once, and held out her hand to Claud.
"Good-night, Mr. Cranmer. I wish I had time to hear more about the inquest. I had been longing for news, and it is kind of you to have told me so much."
He rose too, and took the offered hand.
"Must you go?" he said, scarcely knowing that he said it.