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Updated: June 17, 2025
It seemed to me I heard a step, but when I looked back I saw no one." "Did that fact make you uneasy?" "No," she said, with a little smile. "I thought it was Mr. Swain." I saw Goldberger's sudden movement. I myself could not repress a little shudder. "You thought that would be the natural thing for Mr. Swain to do, did you not?" the coroner inquired. "Yes I thought he might wish to see me safe."
I had never known him to do a dishonourable thing to fight for a cause he thought unjust, to print a fact given to him in confidence, or to make a statement which he knew to be untrue. Moreover, a lively sense of humour made him an admirable companion, and it was this quality, perhaps, which enabled him to receive Goldberger's thrust with a good-natured smile.
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.
On the floor in front of him were what looked to me like a strip of cloth, a bone and a tooth. He did not raise his eyes at our entrance, but sat calmly contemplating these relics. Goldberger's moustache lost a few more hairs as he stood staring down at this strange figure. "What are those things? His grandmother's remains?" he asked, at last.
"Since then," pursued Goldberger, "you have made no further reference to that feature of the case. I presume you found out that you were mistaken?" "On the contrary, I proved that I was correct." Goldberger's face reddened, and his look was not pleasant. "'Prove' is rather a strong word, isn't it?" he asked. "It is the right word." "What was the woman's connection with the man Drouet?"
This was shown now by his gleaming eyes and the trembling hand which pulled nervously at his short, black moustache. Goldberger's moustache was a good index to his mental state the more ragged it grew, the more baffling he found the case in hand! Both he and Simmonds glanced up at our entrance and nodded briefly. Then their eyes went back to that huddled figure.
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