[Illustration: "I'm lawyer enough to know," he said, "that a question like that is not permissible"]

  "Yes," and Swain held up his hand and showed the strip of plaster across the wound.

  "Your right wrist?"

  "Yes."

  "It bled freely, did it not?"

  "Very freely."

  "What became of the clothes you took off when you changed into those brought by Mr. Godfrey?"

  "I don't know. Mr. Lester told me they were left here. I intended to inquire for them."

  At a sign from Goldberger, Simmonds opened a suit-case and placed a bundle on the table. Goldberger unrolled it and handed it to Swain.

  "Are these the clothes?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Swain, after a moment's examination.

  "Will you hold the shirt up so the jury can see it?"

  Swain held the garment up, and everybody's eyes were fixed upon the blood-soaked sleeve.

  "There seems to have been a good deal of blood," remarked Goldberger. "It must have run down over your hand."

  "It did. It was all over my fingers."

  "So that it would probably stain anything you touched?"

  "Yes, very probably."

  "Did you think of that when you were in the arbour with Miss Vaughan?"

  Swain's face suddenly crimsoned and he hung his head.

  "I'm afraid not," he said.

  "How was she dressed?"

  "In a white robe of some silk-like material."

  "A robe that would show a blood-stain?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  Goldberger paused for an instant, and then produced a pad, such as one uses for inking rubber stamps, opened it and placed it on the table before him.

  "Have you any objection to giving me a set of your finger-prints?" he asked.

  "None whatever," and Swain stepped toward the table and placed the tips of his fingers on the pad. Then he pressed each one carefully upon the pad of paper which the coroner placed before him. Goldberger watched him curiously, until all ten impressions had been made.

  "You did that as though you had done it before," he remarked.

  "I made a set once for Mr. Vaughan," said Swain, sitting down again. "He had a most interesting collection."

  Goldberger passed the prints over to the head of the Bureau of Identification, then he turned back to the witness.

  "Mr. Swain," he said, "have you ever seen this cord before?" and he handed him the knotted cord.

  Swain took it and examined it curiously, without hesitation or repugnance.

  "No," he answered, finally, "I never saw it before."

  "Do you know what it is?" and Goldberger watched him closely.

  "I infer that it is the cord with which Mr. Vaughan was strangled."

  "That is so. You did not see it around his neck?"

  "I have no recollection of having done so."

  "Please look at the cord again, Mr. Swain," said Goldberger, still watching him. "You will see that it is knotted. Can you describe those knots for me?"

  Swain looked at the knots, and I was glad to see that his hands were absolutely steady and his face free from fear. No murderer could handle so unconcernedly the instrument of his crime! Surely the jury would see that!

  "The knots," said Swain, at last, "seem to be an ordinary square knot with which the cord was made into a noose, and then a double bowline to secure it."

  "A double bowline? Can you tie such a knot?"

  "Certainly. Anyone who has ever owned a boat can do so. It is the best knot for this purpose."

  The coroner reached out for the cord and replaced it in the envelope. Then he produced the handkerchief.

  "Can you identify this?" he asked, and handed it to the witness.

  Swain changed colour a little as he took it.

  "I cannot identify it," he said, in a low voice; "but I will say this: when Miss Vaughan found that my wrist was bleeding, she insisted upon tying her handkerchief around it. This may be the handkerchief."

  Again a little shiver ran through the crowd, and Goldberger's eyes were gleaming.

  "You notice that two corners of the handkerchief are free from stain," he said, "and are crumpled as though they had been tied in a knot. The handkerchief Miss Vaughan used would probably be in that condition, would it not?"

  "Yes," Swain answered, his voice still low.

  "You heard Dr. Hinman testify that he found the handkerchief beside the chair in which Mr. Vaughan was murdered?"

  "Yes."

  "Can you explain its presence there?"

  "I cannot, unless it dropped from my wrist when I stooped to raise Miss Vaughan."

  Goldberger looked at the witness for a moment, then he glanced at Sylvester, who nodded almost imperceptibly.

  "That is all for the present, Mr. Swain," the coroner said, and Swain sat down again beside me, very pale, but holding himself well in hand.

  Then Simmonds took the stand. His story developed nothing new, but he told of the finding of the body and of its appearance and manner of death in a way which brought back the scene to me very vividly. I suspected that he made his story deliberately impressive in order to efface the good impression made by the previous witness.

  Finally, the coroner dipped once more into the suit-case, brought out another bundle and unrolled it. It proved to be a white robe with red stains about the top. He handed it to Simmonds.

  "Can you identify this?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Simmonds; "it is the garment worn by Mr. Vaughan at the time of his murder."

  "How do you identify it?"

  "By my initials in indelible ink, on the right sleeve, where I placed them."

  "There are stains on the collar of the robe. What are they?"

  "Blood-stains."

  "Human blood?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "How do you know?"

  "I have had them tested."

  "Did any blood come from the corpse?"

  "No, sir; the skin of the neck was not broken."

  "Where, then, in your opinion, did this blood come from?"

  "From the murderer," answered Simmonds, quietly.

  There was a sudden gasp from the reporters, as they saw whither this testimony was tending. I glanced at Swain. He was a little paler, but was smiling confidently.

  Goldberger, his face hawklike, stooped again to the suit-case, produced a third bundle, and, unrolling it, disclosed another robe, also of white silk. This, too, he handed to Simmonds.

  "Can you identify that?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Simmonds. "It is the robe worn by Miss Vaughan on the night of the tragedy. My initials are on the left sleeve."

  "That also has blood-marks on it, I believe?"

  "Yes, sir;" and, indeed, we could all perceive the marks.

  "Human blood?"

  "Yes, sir. I had it tested, too."

  "That is all," said Goldberger, quickly, and placed on the stand the head of the Identification Bureau.

  "Mr. Sylvester," he began, "you have examined the marks on these garments?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "What did you make of them?"

  "They are all unquestionably finger-marks, but most of them are mere smudges. However, the fabric of which these robes are made is a very hard and finely-meshed silk, with an unusually smooth surface, and I succeeded in discovering a few marks on which the lines were sufficiently distinct for purposes of identification. These I have photographed. The lines are much plainer in the photographs than on the cloth."

  "Have you the photographs with you?"

  "I have," and Sylvester produced them from a pocket. "These are the prints on the robe belonging to the murdered man," he added, passing four cards to the coroner. "You will notice that two of them show the right thumb, though one is not very distinct; another shows the right fore-finger, and the fourth the right middle-finger."

  "You consider these plain enough for purposes of identification?"

  "Undoubtedly. Any one of them would be enough."

  Goldberger passed the photographs to the foreman of the jury, who looked at them vacantly.

  "And the other photographs?" he asked.

  "I got only two prints from the other robe," said Sylvester. "All but these were hopelessly smudged, as though the hand had moved while touching the garment."

  "You mean they were all made by one hand?" asked Goldberger.

  "Yes, sir; by the right hand. Again I have a print of the thumb and one of the third finger."

  He passed the photographs over, and again Goldberger handed them on to the jury.

  "Mr. Sylvester," said the coroner, "you consider the finger-print method of identification a positive one, do you not?"

  "Absolutely so."

  "Even with a single finger?"

  "Perhaps with a single finger there may be some doubt, if there is no other evidence. Somebody has computed that the chance of two prints being exactly the same is one in sixty-four millions."

  "And where there is other evidence?"

  "I should say that a single finger was enough."

  "Suppose you have two fingers?"

  "Then it is absolutely certain."

  "And three fingers?"

  Sylvester shrugged his shoulders to indicate that proof could go no further. Goldberger took back the photographs from the foreman of the jury and ranged them before him on the table.

  "Now, Mr. Sylvester," he said, "did you notice any correspondence between these prints?"

  "Yes," answered the witness, in a low voice; "the thumb-prints on both robes were made by the same hand."

  The audience sat spell-bound, staring, scarce breathing. I dared not glance at Swain. I could not take my eyes from that pale-faced man on the witness-stand, who knew that with every word he was riveting an awful crime to a living fellow-being.

  "One question more," said Goldberger. "Have you any way of telling by whom these prints were made?"

  "Yes," said Sylvester again, and his voice was so low I could scarcely hear it. "They were made by Frederic Swain. The prints he made just now correspond with them in every detail!"

  CHAPTER XV

  THE CHAIN TIGHTENS

  An instant's silence followed Sylvester's words, and then a little murmur of interest and excitement, as the reporters bent closer above their work. I heard a quick, deep intaking of the breath from the man who sat beside me, and then I was on my feet.

  "Your Honour," I said to Goldberger, "it seems that an effort is to be made to incriminate Mr. Swain in this affair, and he should therefore be represented by counsel. I myself intend to represent him, and I ask for an hour's adjournment in order to consult with my client."

  Goldberger glanced at his watch.

  "I intended to adjourn for lunch," he said, "as soon as I had finished with Mr. Sylvester. We will adjourn now, if you wish--until one-thirty," he added.

  The battery of cameras was clicking at Swain, and two or three artists were making sketches of his head; there was a great bustle as the reporters gathered up their papers and hurried to their cars to search for the nearest telephone; the jury walked heavily away in charge of an officer to get their lunch at some near-by road-house; Sylvester was gathering up his prints and photographs and putting them carefully in his pocket; Simmonds was replacing the blood-stained clothing in the suit-case, to be held as evidence for the trial; but Swain sat there, with arms folded, staring straight before him, apparently unconscious of all this.

  Goldberger looked at him closely, as he came down to speak to me, but Swain did not glance up.

  "I can parole him in your custody, I suppose, Mr. Lester?" the coroner asked.

  "Yes; certainly," I assented.

  "Sylvester's evidence makes it look bad for him."

  "Will you introduce me to Sylvester? I should like to go over the prints with him."

  "Certainly;" and, a moment later, with the prints spread out before us, Sylvester was showing me their points of similarity.

  Godfrey came forward while he was talking and stood looking over his shoulder.

  I had heard of finger-print identification, of course, many times, but had made no study of the subject, and, I confess, the blurred photographs which Sylvester offered for my inspection seemed to me mighty poor evidence upon which to accuse a man of murder. The photographs showed the prints considerably larger than life-size, but this enlargement had also exaggerated the threads of the cloth, so that the prints seemed half-concealed by a heavy mesh. To the naked eye, the lines were almost indistinguishable, but under Sylvester's powerful glass they came out more clearly.

  "The thumb," said Sylvester, following the lines first to the right and then to the left with the point of a pencil, "is what we call a double whorl. It consists of fourteen lines, or ridges. With the micrometer," and he raised the lid of a little leather box which stood on the table, took out an instrument of polished steel and applied it to one of the photographs, "we get the angle of these ridges. See how I adjust it," and I watched him, as, with a delicate thumbscrew, he made the needle-like points of the finder coincide with the outside lines of the whorl. "Now here is a photograph from the other robe, also showing the thumb," and he applied the machine carefully to it. "It also is a double whorl of fourteen lines, and you see the angles are the same. And here is the print of the right thumb which your client made for me." He applied the micrometer and drew back that I might see for myself.

  "But these photographs are enlarged," I objected.

  "That makes no difference. Enlargement does not alter the angles. Here are the other prints."

  He compared them one by one, in the same manner. When he had finished, there was no escaping the conviction that they had been made by the same hand--that is, unless one denied the theory of finger-print identification altogether, and that, I knew, would be absurd. As he finished his demonstration, Sylvester glanced over my shoulder with a little deprecating smile, as of a man apologising for doing an unpleasant duty, and I turned to find Swain standing there, his face lined with perplexity.

  "You heard?" I asked.

  "Yes; and I believe Mr. Sylvester is right. I can't understand it."

  "Well," I said, "suppose we go and have some lunch, and then we can talk it over," and thanking Sylvester for his courtesy, I led Swain away. Godfrey fell into step beside us, and for some moments we walked on in silence.

  "There is only one explanation that I can see," said Godfrey, at last. "Swain, you remember, got to the library about a minute ahead of us, and when we reached the door he was lifting Miss Vaughan to the couch. In that minute, he must have touched the dead man."

  Swain shook his head doubtfully.

  "I don't see why I should have done that," he said.

  "It isn't a question of why you did it," Godfrey pointed out. "It's a question of whether you did it. Go over the scene in your mind, recalling as many details as you can, and then we'll go over it together, step by step, after lunch."

  It was a silent meal, and when it was over, Godfrey led the way into his study.

  "Now," he began, when we were seated, "where was Miss Vaughan at the moment you sprang through the door?"

  "She was lying on the floor by the table, in front of her father's chair," Swain replied.

  "You are sure of that?"

  "Yes; I didn't see her until I ran around the table."

  "I was hoping," said Godfrey, "that she had fainted with her arms clasped about her father's neck, and that, in freeing them, you made those marks on his robe."

  But Swain shook his head.

  "No," he said; "I'm positive I didn't touch him."

  "Then how did the marks get there?"

  "I don't know," said Swain helplessly.

  "Now, see here, Swain," said Godfrey, a little sternly, "there is only one way in which those finger-prints could have got on that garment, and that is from your fingers. If you didn't put them there consciously, you must have done so unconsciously. If they aren't explained in some way, the jury will very probably hold you responsible for the crime."

  "I understand that," Swain answered thickly; "but how can they be explained? I don't see why I should put my hands on Mr. Vaughan's throat, even unconsciously. And then there's the fact that at no time during the evening was I really unconscious--I was only confused and dazed."

  "Goldberger's theory is plain enough," said Godfrey, turning to me; "and I must say that it's a good one. He realises that there wasn't provocation enough to cause a man like Swain to commit murder, with all his senses about him; but his presumption is that the crime was committed while Swain was in a dazed condition and not wholly self-controlled. Such a thing is possible."

  "No, it isn't!" cried Swain, his face livid. "It isn't possible! I'm not a murderer. I remember everything else--do you think I wouldn't remember a thing like that!"

  "I don't know what to think," Godfrey admitted, a straight line between his brows. "Besides, there's the handkerchief."

  "I don't see any mystery about that," said Swain. "There's only one way that could have come there. It dropped from my wrist when I stooped over Miss Vaughan."

  Godfrey looked at me, and I nodded. Swain might as well know the worst.

  "That would be an explanation, sure enough," said Godfrey, slowly, "but for one fact--you didn't have any bandage on your wrist when you came back over the wall. Both Lester and I saw your wrist and the cut on it distinctly. Therefore, if you dropped the handkerchief there, it must have been before that."

  The blood had run from Swain's cheeks, as though drained by an open artery, and for a moment he sat silent, staring at the speaker. Then he raised his trembling right hand and looked at it, as though it might bear some mark to tell him whether it were indeed guilty.

  "But--but I don't understand!" he cried thickly. "You--you don't mean to intimate--you don't believe--but I wasn't unconscious, I tell you! I wasn't near the house until after we heard the screams! I'm sure of it! I'd stake my soul on it!"

  "Get a grip of yourself, Swain," said Godfrey, soothingly. "Don't let yourself go like that. No, I don't believe you killed Worthington Vaughan, consciously or unconsciously. I said Goldberger's theory was a good one, and it is; but I don't believe it. My belief is that the murder was done by the Thug; but there's nothing to support it, except the fact that he was on the ground and that a noose was used. There's not a bit of direct evidence to connect him with the crime, and there's a lot of direct evidence to connect you with it. It's up to us to explain it away. Now, think carefully before you answer my questions: Have you any recollection, however faint, of having seen Mahbub before this morning?"

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 376 377 378 379 380 381 382 383 384 385 386 387 388 389 390 391 392 393 394 395 396 397 398 399 400 401 402 403 404 405 406 407 408 409 410 411 412 413 414 415 416 417 418 419 420 421 422 423 424 425 426 427 428 429 430 431 432 433 434 435 436 437 438 439 440 441 442 443 444 445 446 447 448 449 450 451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475 476 477 478 479 480 481 482 483 484 485 486 487 488 489 490 491 492 493 494 495 496 497 498 499 500 501 502 503 504 505 506 507 508 509 510 511 512 513 514 515 516 517 518 519 520 521 522 523 524 525 526 527 528 529 530 531 532 533 534 535 536 537 538 539 540 541 542 543 544 545 546 547 548 549 550 551 552 553 554 555 556 557 558 559 560 561 562 563 564 565 566 567 568 569 570 571 572 573 574 575 576 577 578 579 580 581 582 583 584 585 586 587 588 589 590 591 592 593 594 595 596 597 598 599 600 601 602 603 604 605 606 607 608 609 610 611 612 613 614 615 616 617 618 619 620 621 622 623 624 625 626 627 628 629 630 631 632 633 634 635 636 637 638 639 640 641 642 643 644 645 646 647 648 649 650 651 652 653 654 655 656 657 658 659 660 661 662 663 664 665 666 667 668 669 670 671 672 673 674 675 676 677 678 679 680 681 682 683 684 685 686 687 688 689 690 691 692 693 694 695 696 697 698 699 700 701 702 703 704 705 706 707 708 709 710 711 712 713 714 715 716 717 718 719 720 721 722 723 724 725 726 727 728 729 730 731 732 733 734 735 736 737 738 739 740 741 742 743 744 745 746 747 748 749 750 751 752 753 754 755 756 757 758 759 760 761 762 763 764 765 766 767 768 769 770 771 772 773 774 775 776 777 778 779 780 781 782 783 784 785 786 787 788 789 790 791 792 793 794 795 796 797 798 799 800 801 802 803 804 805 806 807 808 809 810 811 812 813 814 815 816 817 818 819 820 821 822 823 824 825 826 827 828 829 830 831 832 833 834 835 836 837 838 839 840 841 842 843 844 845 846 847 848 849 850 851 852 853 854 855 856 857 858 859 860 861 862 863 864 865 866 867 868 869 870 871 872 873 874 875 876 877 878 879 880 881 882 883 884 885 886 887 888 889 890 891 892 893 894 895 896 897 898 899 900 901 902 903 904 905 906 907 908 909 910 911 912 913 914 915 916 917 918 919 920 921 922 923 924 925 926 927 928 929 930 931 932 933 934 935 936 937 938 939 940 941 942 943 944 945 946 947 948 949 950 951 952 953 954 955 956 957 958 959 960 961 962 963 964 965 966 967 968 969 970 971 972 973 974 975 976 977 978 979 980 981 982 983 984 985 986 987 988 989 990 991 992 993 994 995 996 997 998 999 1000 1001 1002 1003 1004 1005 1006 1007 1008 1009 1010 1011 1012 1013 1014 1015 1016 1017 1018 1019 1020 1021 1022 1023 1024 1025 1026 1027 1028 1029 1030 1031 1032 1033 1034 1035 1036 1037 1038 1039 1040 1041 1042 1043 1044 1045 1046 1047 1048 1049 1050 1051 1052 1053 1054 1055 1056 1057 1058 1059 1060 1061 1062 1063 1064 1065 1066 1067 1068 1069 1070 1071 1072 1073 1074 1075 1076 1077 1078 1079 1080 1081 1082 1083 1084 1085 1086 1087 1088 1089 1090 1091 1092 1093 1094 1095 1096 1097 1098 1099 1100 1101 1102 1103 1104 1105 1106 1107 1108 1109 1110 1111 1112 1113 1114 1115 1116 1117 1118 1119 1120 1121 1122 1123 1124 1125 1126 1127 1128 1129 1130 1131 1132 1133 1134 1135 1136 1137 1138 1139 1140 1141 1142 1143 1144 1145 1146 1147 1148 1149 1150 1151 1152 1153 1154 1155 1156 1157 1158 1159 1160 1161 1162 1163 1164 1165 1166 1167 1168 1169 1170 1171 1172 1173 1174 1175 1176 1177 1178 1179 1180 1181 1182 1183 1184 1185 1186 1187 1188 1189 1190 1191 1192 1193 1194 1195 1196 1197 1198 1199 1200 1201 1202 1203 1204 1205 1206 1207 1208 1209 1210 1211 1212 1213 1214 1215 1216 1217 1218 1219 1220 1221 1222 1223 1224 1225 1226 1227 1228 1229 1230 1231 1232 1233 1234 1235 1236 1237 1238 1239 1240 1241 1242 1243 1244 1245 1246 1247 1248 1249 1250 1251 1252 1253 1254 1255 1256 1257 1258 1259 1260 1261 1262 1263 1264 1265 1266 1267 1268 1269 1270 1271 1272 1273 1274 1275 1276 1277 1278 1279 1280 1281 1282 1283 1284 1285 1286 1287 1288 1289 1290 1291 1292 1293 1294 1295 1296 1297 1298 1299 1300 1301 1302 1303 1304 1305 1306 1307 1308 1309 1310 1311 1312 1313 1314 1315 1316 1317 1318 1319 1320 1321 1322 1323 1324 1325 1326 1327 1328 1329 1330 1331 1332 1333 1334 1335 1336 1337 1338 1339 1340 1341 1342 1343