The Gloved Hand

by Burton Egbert Stevenson

  CHAPTER XVI

  MISS VAUGHAN'S STORY

  Sylvester was still bending in ecstasy over those strangefinger-prints--the absorbed ecstasy of the collector who has comeunexpectedly upon a specimen wonderful and precious.

  "Well," he said, looking up, at last, "I've learned something newto-day. These prints shall have the place of honour. They might not bea means of identification among the Thugs, but I'll wager there's nocollection in America has a set like them! They're unique!"

  "But not in the least like the photographs," put in Goldberger, drily.

  "No," and Sylvester flushed a little as he felt himself jerked fromhis hobby. "None of the prints we have taken this afternoon resemblethe photographs in any way."

  "But those made by Mr. Swain _do_ resemble them?"

  "It is more than a resemblance. They are identical with them."

  "What inference do you draw from that?"

  "It is more than an inference," Sylvester retorted. "It is acertainty. I am willing to swear that the finger-prints on the robeworn by the murdered man were made by Frederic Swain."

  "You realise the serious nature of this assertion?" asked the coroner,slowly.

  "I realise it fully."

  "And that realisation does not cause you to modify it in any way?"

  "It cannot be modified," said Sylvester, firmly, "however serious itmay be, however reluctant I may be to make it--it cannot be modifiedbecause it is the truth."

  There was a moment's silence, then Goldberger turned to me.

  "Have you any questions to ask the witness, Mr. Lester?"

  "No," I answered; "I have none."

  Sylvester bent again above his prints, while the coroner and theprosecutor held a brief consultation. Then Goldberger turned back tome.

  "Have you anything further, Mr. Lester?" he asked. "Our evidence isall in, I believe."

  I was driven to my last entrenchment.

  "I should like to call Miss Vaughan," I said, "if Dr. Hinman thinksshe is strong enough."

  Swain's chair creaked as he swung toward me.

  "No, no!" he whispered, angrily. "Don't do that! Spare her that!"

  But I waved him away, for it was his honour and welfare I had toconsider, not Miss Vaughan's convenience, and turned to Dr. Hinman,who was evidently struggling between two duties. One was his duty tohis patient; the other his duty to a man cruelly threatened, whom hispatient's testimony might save.

  "Well, what do you say, doctor?" asked the coroner.

  "Miss Vaughan is no doubt able to testify," said the doctor, slowly,"but I should like to spare her as much as possible. Couldn't herdeposition be taken privately? I think you mentioned something of thesort."

  Goldberger looked at me.

  "I shall be satisfied," I said, "to question her in the presence ofMr. Goldberger, reserving the right to put her on the stand, should Ideem it necessary to do so."

  "Very well," agreed the doctor. "I will prepare her," and he hurriedaway toward the house.

  Swain was gripping my arm savagely.

  "See here, Mr. Lester," he said in my ear, his voice shaking withanger, "I'm in deadly earnest about this. Take Miss Vaughan'sdeposition if you wish, but under no circumstances shall she be hauledbefore this crowd, in her present condition, and compelled totestify."

  "Why not?" I asked, surprised at his vehemence.

  "Because, in the first place, her testimony can't help me; and, in thesecond place, I won't have her tortured."

  "She wouldn't be tortured."

  "Look around at these reporters and these photographers, and then tellme she wouldn't be tortured!"

  "How do you know her evidence won't help you?"

  "How can it?"

  "It will confirm your story."

  "Can it explain away the finger-prints?"

  At the words, I suddenly realised that there was one person withinstriking distance of the murdered man whose prints we had nottaken--his daughter. Not that they were necessary ...

  Dr. Hinman appeared at the edge of the lawn and beckoned. As I arosefrom my chair, Swain gave my arm a last savage grip.

  "Remember!" he said.

  But I kept my lips closed. If Miss Vaughan really loved him, and couldhelp him, I would not need to urge her to the stand!

  Goldberger joined me and together we followed Hinman into the houseand up the stairs. He opened the door at the stair-head, waited for usto precede him, followed us into the room, and closed the doorgently.

  Miss Vaughan was half-sitting, half-reclining in a large chair. Theblinds were drawn and the room in semi-darkness, but even in thatlight I could see how changed she was from the girl of whom I hadcaught a glimpse two days before. Her face was dead white, as thoughevery drop of blood had been drained from it; her eyes were heavy andpuffed, as from much weeping, and it seemed to me that there stilllingered in their depths a shadow of horror and shrinking fear.

  "This is Mr. Goldberger," said the doctor, "and this is Mr. Lester."

  She inclined her head to each of us, as we took the chairs the doctordrew up, and I fancied that her cheeks flushed a little as her eyesmet mine.

  "I have explained to Miss Vaughan," the doctor continued, "that aninquiry is in progress, as the law requires, to determine the mannerof her father's death, and that her story of what happened that nightis essential to it."

  "It will, at least, be a great help to us," said Goldberger gently,and I saw how deeply the girl's delicate beauty appealed to him. Itwas a beauty which no pallor could disguise, and Goldberger'stemperament was an impressionable one.

  "I shall be glad to tell you all I know," said Miss Vaughan, "but Ifear it will not help you much."

  "Will you tell us something, first, of your father's mental state?" Isuggested.

  "For many years," she began, "father had been a student of mysticism,and until quite recently he remained merely a student. I mean by thatthat he approached the subject with a detached mind and with nointerest in it except a scientific interest."

  "I understand," I said. "And that has changed recently?"

  "It has changed completely in the last few months. He became adisciple, a convert anxious to win other converts."

  "A convert to what?"

  "To Hinduism--to the worship of Siva."

  "That is the cult to which Francisco Silva belongs?"

  "Yes; he is a White Priest of Siva."

  "And this change in your father has been since the coming of this man?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you know anything of him?"

  "Only that he is a very wonderful man."

  "You know nothing of his past?"

  "No."

  "Did your father wish you to become a convert?"

  "Yes, he desired it deeply."

  "A priestess of Siva, I believe it is called?"

  "Yes."

  "And the yogi also desired it?"

  "He believed it would be a great destiny. But he urged it only for myfather's sake."

  "So you determined to appeal to Mr. Swain?"

  The colour deepened in her cheeks again.

  "I decided to ask his advice," she said.

  "Please tell us what happened that evening."

  "Mr. Swain met me at the arbour in the corner of the grounds, as I hadasked him to, and convinced me that my father's mind had given wayunder his long study of the occult. We decided that he should beplaced in a sanitarium where he could have proper attention, and Mr.Swain was to make the necessary arrangements. All I would have to dowould be to sign some papers. We were just saying good-night, when myfather appeared at the entrance of the arbour."

  "This was about midnight, was it not?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did you choose that hour for the meeting?"

  "Because at that hour my father and the yogi were always engaged ininvoking an astral benediction."

  Even I, who knew the significance of the words, paused a little atthem. The doctor and Goldberger were hopelessly at sea. After all, theword
s were a very good description of the weird ceremony.

  "Well," I said, "and after your father appeared, what happened?"

  "He was very excited and spoke to Mr. Swain in a most violent manner.Mr. Swain attempted to take me away from him, not knowing, at first,who it was had seized me; but I pushed him back and led my father awaytoward the house."

  "Did Mr. Swain touch your father?"

  "No; I was between them all the time. I was determined that theyshould not touch each other. I was afraid, if they came together, thatsomething terrible would happen."

  Goldberger glanced at me.

  "Something terrible to your father?" he asked.

  "Oh, no," she answered, quickly; "Mr. Swain would not have harmed myfather, but father did not know what he was doing and might haveharmed Mr. Swain."

  It was my turn to look at Goldberger.

  "After you left the arbour," I asked, "did you see Mr. Swain again?"

  "No, I did not see him again."

  "You went straight to the house?"

  "Yes; father was still very violent. He had forbidden me to see Mr.Swain or to write to him. He had taken a violent dislike to him."

  "Do you know why?"

  "Yes," and she flushed a little, but went on bravely. "He believedthat Mr. Swain wished to marry me."

  "As, in fact, he did," I commented.

  "Yes; or, at least, he did before his financial troubles came. Afterthat, he wished to give me up."

  "But you refused to be given up?"

  "Yes," she said, and looked at me with eyes beautifully radiant. "Irefused to be given up."

  I felt that I was rushing in where angels would hesitate to enter, andbeat a hasty retreat.

  "Was your father always opposed to your marriage?" I asked.

  "No; he has wanted me to wait until I was of age; but he neverabsolutely forbade it until a few months ago. It was at the time hefirst tried to persuade me to become a convert to Hinduism."

  "What occurred after you and your father reached the house?"

  "Father was very angry, and demanded that I promise never to see Mr.Swain again. When I refused to promise, he sent me to my room,forbidding me to leave it without his permission. I came up at once,more than ever convinced that father needed medical attention. I wasvery nervous and over-wrought, and I sat down by the window to controlmyself before going to bed. And then, suddenly, I remembered somethingthe yogi had told me--that father was not strong, and that a fit ofanger might be very serious. I knew the servants had gone to bed, andthat he must be downstairs alone, since I had heard no one come up."

  "You had heard no one in the hall at all?" I asked.

  "No, I had heard no one. But I remember, as I started down the stairs,a curious feeling of dread seized me. It was so strong that I stoodfor some moments on the top step before I could muster courage to godown. At last, I _did_ go down and--and found my father!"

  She stopped, her hands over her eyes, as though to shut away theremembrance of that dreadful sight.

  "Have you strength to tell me just what happened, Miss Vaughan?" Iasked gently.

  She controlled herself with an effort and took her hands from her face.

  "Yes," she said; "I can tell you. I remember that I stood for amoment at the door, looking about the room, for at the first glance Ithought there was no one there. I thought, for an instant, that fatherhad gone into the grounds, for the curtain at the other door wastrembling 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.

  "I suppose so. The next instant I saw my father huddled forward in hischair. I was sure he had had a seizure of some sort; I ran to him, andraised his head...."

  Again she stopped, her eyes covered, and a slow shudder shook her fromhead to foot. I could guess what a shock the sight of that horribleface had been!

  "I do not remember anything more," she added, in a whisper.

  For a moment, we all sat silent. The only portion of her evidencewhich could in any way help Swain was her discovery of the swayingcurtain, and even that, as Goldberger had pointed out, might easilymean nothing.

  "Miss Vaughan," I said, at last, "how long a time elapsed from themoment you left your father in the library until you found him?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps fifteen minutes."

  "Was he quite dead when you found him?"

  "Yes, I--I think so."

  "Then," I said to Goldberger, "the murder must have been committedvery soon after Miss Vaughan came upstairs."

  "Yes," agreed Goldberger, in a low tone, "and by somebody who came infrom the grounds, since she met no one in the hall and heard no one."

  Miss Vaughan leaned toward him, her hands clasping and unclasping.

  "Do you know who it was?" she gasped. "Have you found out who it was?"

  "We suspect who it was," answered Goldberger gravely.

  "Tell me," she began.

  "Wait a minute, Miss Vaughan," I broke in. "Tell me, first--did youhear anyone following you across the garden?"

  "Yes," she answered thoughtfully; "once or twice I fancied thatsomeone was following us. It seemed to me I heard a step, but when Ilooked 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 alittle shudder.

  "You thought that would be the natural thing for Mr. Swain to do, didyou not?" the coroner inquired.

  "Yes--I thought he might wish to see me safe." Then she stopped,leaning forward in her chair and staring first at Goldberger and thenat me. "What is it?" she whispered, her hands against her heart. "Oh,what is it? You don't mean--you can't mean--oh, tell me! It isn't Fredyou suspect! It can't be Fred!"

  It was Dr. Hinman who laid a gentle and quieting hand upon hershoulder, and it was his grave voice which answered her.

  "Yes," he said, "there are some things which seem to implicate Mr.Swain; but both Mr. Lester and I are certain he isn't guilty. We'regoing to prove it!"

  She looked up at him with a grateful smile.

  "Thank you!" she gasped. "I--wait a moment--I was silly to give wayso. Of course you will prove it! It's absurd!" And then she stoppedand looked at Goldberger. "Do _you_ believe it?" she demanded.

  Goldberger flushed a little under her gaze.

  "I don't know what to believe, Miss Vaughan," he said. "I'm searchingfor the truth."

  "So are we all," I said. "I am counsel for Mr. Swain, Miss Vaughan,and I have come to you, hoping that your story would help to clear him."

  "Oh, I wish it might!" she cried.

  "You know Mr. Swain cut his wrist as he came over the wall that night?"

  "Yes, he told me. He didn't know it was bleeding, at first; then hefelt the blood on his hand, and I wrapped his wrist in myhandkerchief."

  "Was it this handkerchief?" asked Goldberger, and took from his pocketthe blood-stained square and handed it to her.

  She took it with a little shiver, looked at it, and passed it back to him.

  "Yes," she said; "that is it."

  Then she sat upright, her clenched hands against her breast, staringat us with starting eyes.

  "I remember now!" she gasped. "I remember now! I saw it--a blotch ofred--lying on the floor beside my father's chair! How did it getthere, Mr. Lester? Had he been there? Did he follow us?" She stoppedagain, as she saw the look in Goldberger's eyes, and then the look inmine. With a long, indrawn breath of horror, she cowered back into thechair, shaking from head to foot. "Oh, what have I done!" she moaned."What have I done?"

  There could be no question as to what she had done, I told myself,bitterly: she had added another link to the chain of evidence abouther lover. I could see the same thought in the sardonic gaze whichGoldberger turned upon me; but before either of us could say a word,the doctor, with a peremptory gesture, had driven us from the r
oom.