CHAPTER XIV
THE FINGER-PRINTS
A shiver ran through the crowd, like a gust of wind across a field ofwheat. The words, "Mahbub is Thuggee," seemed to rend the veil whichobscured the tragedy. Surely it was clear enough, now: here was a mankilled by Thuggee's peculiar method, and here was the Thug. It was assimple as two and two!
Every eye was on the bare-legged Hindu, impassive as ever, staringstraight before him. The camera-men hastily pushed in fresh plates andtrained their machines upon him. Two policemen edged close to hisside.
But Francisco Silva looked about him with scornful eyes, and presentlyhe opened his lips as though to speak, and then he closed them.
Goldberger seemed perplexed. He looked as though, while rollingsmoothly along the road toward a well-understood goal, he had suddenlystruck an unforeseen obstacle. The possibility of Mahbub's guiltseemed to interfere with some theory of his own. He called Simmondsand the district attorney to him, and they exchanged a few low words.Then he turned back to the witness.
"I should like to question your attendant," he said. "Will youtranslate for me? I have not been able to find a Hindu interpreter."
Silva bowed his consent.
"Ask him, please, where he spent Thursday night."
There was a brief interchange between Silva and Mahbub, then theformer turned to Goldberger.
"It was as I thought," he said. "He spent the night in the worship ofthe attributes of Kali."
The coroner opened an envelope which lay on the table at his elbow andtook out a piece of knotted cord.
"Ask him if he ever saw this before," he said, and passed it to thewitness.
"I notice that it is stained," said Silva, looking at it. "Is it withblood?"
"Yes."
"Then Mahbub will not touch it. For him to do so, would be to defilehimself."
"He doesn't need to touch it. Show it to him."
Silva spoke to his servant, holding up the cord. The latter glanced atit and shook his head. Without a word, Silva handed the cord back tothe coroner.
"Are there any further questions?" he asked.
Goldberger pulled at his moustache impatiently.
"There are a lot of questions I'd like to ask," he said, "but I feel agood deal as though I were questioning the Sphinx. Isn't it a littlequeer that a Thug should be so particular about a few blood-stains?"
"I fear that you are doing Mahbub an injustice in your thoughts,"Silva said, gravely. "You have heard certain tales of the Thugs,perhaps--tales distorted and magnified and untrue. In the old days, asworshippers of Kali, they did, sometimes, offer her a human sacrifice;but that was long ago. To say a man is a Thug is not to say he is alsoa murderer."
"It will take more than that to convict him, anyway," assentedGoldberger, quickly. "That is all for the present, professor." I bitback a smile at the title which came so unconsciously fromGoldberger's lips.
Silva bowed and walked slowly away toward the house, Mahbub followingclose behind. At a look from Simmonds, two of his men strolled afterthe strange couple.
Goldberger stared musingly after them for a moment, then shook hishead impatiently, and turned back to the business in hand.
"Will Mr. Swain please take the stand?" he said; and Swain took thechair. "Now, Mr. Swain," Goldberger began, after swearing him,"please tell us, in your own way, of what part you had in theincidents of Thursday night."
Swain told his story much as he had told it to Godfrey and me, and Inoticed how closely both Goldberger and the district attorney followedit. When he had finished, Goldberger asked the same question thatGodfrey had asked.
"While you were having the altercation with Mr. Vaughan, did you grasphold of him?"
"No, sir; I did not touch him."
"You are quite sure?"
"Yes, sir."
"You didn't touch him at any time, then or afterwards?"
"No, sir. I didn't see him afterwards."
"What were your feelings when he took his daughter away?"
"I was profoundly grieved."
"And angry?"
"Yes, I suppose I was angry. He was most unjust to me."
"He had used very violent language to you, had he not?"
"Yes."
"He had threatened your life if you tried to see his daughter again?"
"Yes."
"Now, Mr. Swain, as you stood there, angry and humiliated, didn't youmake up your mind to follow him to the house and have it out withhim?"
Swain smiled.
"I'm lawyer enough to know," he said, "that a question like that isn'tpermissible. But I'll answer it. I may have had such an impulse--Idon't know; but the sight of the cobra there in the arbour put iteffectually out of my head."
"You still think there was a cobra?"
"I am sure of it."
"And you ran out of the arbour so fast you bumped your head?"
"I suppose that's what happened. It's mighty sore, anyway," and Swainput his hand to it ruefully.
"Mr. Swain," went on the coroner, slowly, "are you prepared to swearthat, after you hurt your head, you might not, in a confused andhalf-dazed condition, have followed your previous impulse to go to thehouse and see Mr. Vaughan?"
"Yes," answered Swain, emphatically, "I am. Although I was somewhatdazed, I have a distinct recollection of going straight to the walland climbing back over it."
"You cut your wrist as you were crossing the wall the first time?"
"I'm lawyer enough to know," he said, "that a questionlike that is not permissible"]
"Yes," and Swain held up his hand and showed the strip of plasteracross 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 thosebrought by Mr. Godfrey?"
"I don't know. Mr. Lester told me they were left here. I intended toinquire for them."
At a sign from Goldberger, Simmonds opened a suit-case and placed abundle 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 theblood-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 oneuses for inking rubber stamps, opened it and placed it on the tablebefore him.
"Have you any objection to giving me a set of your finger-prints?" heasked.
"None whatever," and Swain stepped toward the table and placed thetips of his fingers on the pad. Then he pressed each one carefullyupon the pad of paper which the coroner placed before him. Goldbergerwatched 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 ofIdentification, then he turned back to the witness.
"Mr. Swain," he said, "have you ever seen this cord before?" and hehanded him the knotted cord.
Swain took it and examined it curiously, without hesitation or repugnance.
"No," he answered, fin
ally, "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, stillwatching him. "You will see that it is knotted. Can you describe thoseknots for me?"
Swain looked at the knots, and I was glad to see that his hands wereabsolutely steady and his face free from fear. No murderer couldhandle so unconcernedly the instrument of his crime! Surely the jurywould see that!
"The knots," said Swain, at last, "seem to be an ordinary square knotwith which the cord was made into a noose, and then a double bowlineto 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 bestknot 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 upontying her handkerchief around it. This may be the handkerchief."
Again a little shiver ran through the crowd, and Goldberger's eyeswere 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. Thehandkerchief 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 besidethe 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 raiseMiss Vaughan."
Goldberger looked at the witness for a moment, then he glanced atSylvester, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
"That is all for the present, Mr. Swain," the coroner said, and Swainsat down again beside me, very pale, but holding himself well in hand.
Then Simmonds took the stand. His story developed nothing new, but hetold of the finding of the body and of its appearance and manner ofdeath in a way which brought back the scene to me very vividly. Isuspected that he made his story deliberately impressive in order toefface the good impression made by the previous witness.
Finally, the coroner dipped once more into the suit-case, brought outanother bundle and unrolled it. It proved to be a white robe with redstains 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 thetime of his murder."
"How do you identify it?"
"By my initials in indelible ink, on the right sleeve, where I placedthem."
"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 thistestimony was tending. I glanced at Swain. He was a little paler, butwas 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 thenight 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 thehead of the Identification Bureau.
"Mr. Sylvester," he began, "you have examined the marks on thesegarments?"
"Yes, sir."
"What did you make of them?"
"They are all unquestionably finger-marks, but most of them are meresmudges. However, the fabric of which these robes are made is a veryhard and finely-meshed silk, with an unusually smooth surface, and Isucceeded in discovering a few marks on which the lines weresufficiently distinct for purposes of identification. These I havephotographed. The lines are much plainer in the photographs than onthe cloth."
"Have you the photographs with you?"
"I have," and Sylvester produced them from a pocket. "These are theprints on the robe belonging to the murdered man," he added, passingfour cards to the coroner. "You will notice that two of them show theright thumb, though one is not very distinct; another shows the rightfore-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, wholooked at them vacantly.
"And the other photographs?" he asked.
"I got only two prints from the other robe," said Sylvester. "All butthese were hopelessly smudged, as though the hand had moved whiletouching 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 andone of the third finger."
He passed the photographs over, and again Goldberger handed them on tothe jury.
"Mr. Sylvester," said the coroner, "you consider the finger-printmethod 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 noother evidence. Somebody has computed that the chance of two printsbeing 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 nofurther. Goldberger took back the photographs from the foreman of thejury and ranged them before him on the table.
"Now, Mr. Sylvester," he said, "did you notice any correspondencebetween these prints?"
"Yes," answered the witness, in a low voice; "the thumb-prints on bothrobes were made by the same hand."
The audience sat spell-bound, staring, scarce breathing. I dared notglance at Swain. I could not take my eyes from that pale-faced man onthe witness-stand, who knew that with every word he was riveting anawful crime to a living fellow-being.
"One question more," said Goldberger. "Have you any way of telling bywhom these prints were made?"
"Yes," said Sylvester again, and his voice was so low I could scarcelyhear it. "They were made by Frederic Swain. The prints he made justnow correspond with them in every detail!"
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