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They knew of no especial reason for the rule, though the Irish girl remarked that, with heathen in the house and lunatics, there was no telling how the nights were spent. They were all evidently innocent of any connection with the tragedy; but Goldberger, for some ridiculous reason, brought them downstairs with him and made them look at their master's body.
"He had to go back to the city last night," I explained, "to get some fresh clothes. He had an errand or two to do this morning, and may have been detained. I left word at the house for him to come over here at once." "You seem to have a good deal of confidence in him," Goldberger remarked. "I have," I answered quietly. "A great deal."
"But first I want to shake hands with Miss Vaughan." "You have met Mr. Goldberger, Miss Vaughan," I said, as he came forward, "but Dr. Hinman didn't tell you that he's the cleverest coroner in greater New York." "He doesn't really think so, Miss Vaughan," Goldberger laughed. "You ought to read some of the things he's written about me!
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?"
If Miss Vaughan really loved him, and could help him, I would not need to urge her to the stand! Goldberger joined me and together we followed Hinman into the house and up the stairs. He opened the door at the stair-head, waited for us to precede him, followed us into the room, and closed the door gently. Miss Vaughan was half-sitting, half-reclining in a large chair.
I remember that I stood for a moment at the door, looking about the room, for at the first glance I thought there was no one there. I thought, for an instant, that father had gone into the grounds, for the curtain at the other door was trembling a little, as though someone had just passed." "Ah!" I said, and looked at Goldberger. "It might have been merely the breeze, might it not?" he asked.
"Goldberger is right in that," agreed Godfrey; "but there's a poison unknown that will because it did." "It wasn't a snake bite?" "Oh, no; snake poison wouldn't kill a man that quickly not even a fer-de-lance. That fellow practically dropped where he was struck." "Then what was it?" Godfrey was sitting erect again. He was not smiling now. His face was very stern.
"I should say not," he agreed, and turned away to an inspection of the room. "What can you tell us about it, Mr. Lester?" Goldberger questioned. I told all I knew how Parks had announced a man's arrival, how Vantine and I had come downstairs together, how Vantine had called me, and finally how Parks had identified the body as that of the strange caller. "Have you any theory about it?"
I looked over his shoulder and saw that it contained a single engraved line: M. THÉOPHILE D'AURELLE "Except that he's French, as Parks suggested," said Godfrey. "That's evident, too, from the cut of his clothes." "Yes, and from the cut of his hair," added Goldberger. "You say you didn't know him, Mr. Vantine?" "I never before saw him, to my knowledge," answered Vantine.
Goldberger was there, with Freylinghuisen his physician, his clerk, his stenographer, and the men who were to constitute the jury; Simmonds was there, and with him was an alert little man in glasses, who, Godfrey told me in an aside, was Sylvester, the head of the Identification Bureau, and the greatest expert on finger-prints in America.
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