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The shield showed the head and shoulders of a knight with visor closed, party per fess on counter-vair. Gerald, whose smattering of heraldry told him so much, could not be sure that the lines of the embroidery properly indicated the colors of the shield; but he was sanguine that a device so unusual would be recognized by the learned in such matters, and, having carefully sketched it, he sent a copy to the Heralds’ College, preserving the original drawing for his own use. The handkerchief itself, with the other things found on the body, was of course beyond his reach.

The answer from the Heralds’ College arrived a day or two before the approaching close of his vacation forced Gerald to leave Ireland, but the information furnished served only to make the mystery deeper.

The arms had been readily recognized from his sketch, and the college, in return for his fee, had furnished him with an illuminated drawing, showing that the embroidery had been accurate. The shield was party per fess, argent above, azure below, and from this Gerald concluded that the handkerchief had been marked by someone accustomed to blazonries; he thought it likely that the work had been done in a French convent. The motto, Nemo me impune lacessit, appeared below. The bearings and cognizance were those of the noble family of Costello, which had left Ireland about the middle of the seventeenth century and had settled in Spain. The last representative had fallen some sixty years ago at the battle of Vittoria, in the Peninsular war, and the name was now extinct. So pronounced the unimpeachable authority of the Heralds’ College.

And yet Gerald had seen those very arms embroidered on a handkerchief which had been found in the pocket of a nameless girl, whose corpse he himself had been the first to discover some two weeks before, in the lonely little burying-ground at Drim. What was he to think? Through what strange, undreamed-of ramifications was this affair to be pursued?

The day before his departure, Ffrench walked over to the rectory to say good-bye to Dr. Lynn. Gerald knew that the rector was an authority in county history, and thought it possible that the old gentleman could tell him something about the Costellos, a name linked with many a Westmeath tradition. He was not disappointed, and the mystery he was investigating took on a new interest from what he heard. The Costellos had been one of the midland chieftains in Cromwell’s time; the clan had offered the most determined resistance, and it had been extirpated root and branch by the Protector. The Ffrench estate of Ballyvore had once formed portion of the Costello property, and had been purchased by Gerald’s ancestor from the Cromwellian Puritan to whom it had been granted on confiscation.

The young man was now deeply interested in the inquiry, and to it he devoted every movement of the time he could still call his own.

But the last day of Gerald’s visit slipped away without result, and one fine morning Larry, his brother’s servant, drove him into Athlone to take the train for Queenstown.

“Ye’ll not be lettin’ another six years go by without comin’ home agen, will ye, sir?” said the groom, who was really concerned at Gerald’s departure.

“I don’t know,” answered Gerald; “it all depends. Say, Larry!”

“Sir.”

“Keep an eye out, and if anything turns up about that dead girl, let me know, won’t you?” Ffrench had already made a similar request of his brother, but he was determined to leave no chance untried.

“An’ are ye thinkin’ of that yet, an’ you goin’ to America?” said Larry with admiring wonder.

“Of course I’m thinking of it. I can’t get it out of my head,” replied Gerald impatiently.

“Well, well d’ye mind that now?” said the groom meditatively. “Well, sir, if anything does turn up, I’ll let ye know, never fear; but sure she’s underground now, an’ if we’d been goin’ to larn anything about the matter, we’d ha’ had it long ago.”