The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [5966]
"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