The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [6001]
"A man who could sit without stirring through that scene upstairs," I said, "has nerve enough for anything. Nothing Silva does can surprise me after that!"
"I wonder how he knew the combination?"
"I was sure he knew it. I had to stop Miss Vaughan to keep her from telling it to me."
"Well, he lessened his chance of escape by just that much. Every minute he spent before that safe was a minute lost. Ah, here's Simmonds. What do you think of that, Simmonds?" he added, and pointed to the safe. "Senor Silva stopped on his way out to gather up fifty thousand dollars in cash to pay his travelling expenses."
Simmonds walked over to the safe and looked at it.
"Fifty thousand?" he repeated. "But Vaughan must have been a fool to keep that much money here."
"Oh, I don't know. It's a fireproof safe, and mighty well concealed."
"I'll tell you what I think," I said; "I think he intended to give the money to Silva. He was going to give him a million--left him that in his will, you know."
"So Silva was only taking what belonged to him, eh?" and Godfrey laughed. "Well, I hope you'll get him, Simmonds."
It was at this moment that Dr. Hinman entered, a curious, repressed excitement in his face, and his eyes shining strangely.
"How is she, doctor?" Godfrey asked.
"She'll be all right in the morning. She is still pretty nervous, so I gave her a sleeping-draught and waited till it took effect."
Godfrey looked at him more closely.
"Did she tell you anything?" he asked.
"Not much," said Hinman; "I wouldn't let her talk. But she told me enough to let me guess one thing--she's the bravest girl I ever knew or heard of!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," cried Hinman, his eyes glowing more and more, "that she stayed in this house and faced the deadliest peril out of love for that man Swain; I mean that, if he's cleared, as he's certain to be now, it will be she who clears him; I mean that, if the real murderer is brought to justice, it will be because of the evidence she stayed here to get, and did get!"
His voice had mounted shrilly, and his face was working as though he could scarcely keep back the tears.
"Wait a minute, doctor," broke in Godfrey. "Don't go too fast. What evidence?"
For answer, Hinman flipped something through the air to him. Godfrey caught it, and stared at it an instant in bewilderment; then, with a stifled exclamation, he sprang to the light and held the object close under it.
"By all the gods!" he cried, in a voice as shrill as Hinman's own. "The finger-prints!"
CHAPTER XXV
THE BLOOD-STAINED GLOVE
I do not know what it was I expected to see, as I leaped from my chair and peered over Godfrey's shoulder; but certainly it was something more impressive than the soiled and ragged object he held in his hand. It was, apparently, an ordinary rubber glove, such as surgeons sometimes use, and it was torn and crumpled, as though it had been the subject of a struggle.
Then I remembered that I had seen it crushed in Miss Vaughan's unconscious fingers, and I recalled how the fingers had stiffened when Godfrey tried to remove it, as though some instinct in her sought to guard it, even in the face of death.
"But I don't understand," said Simmonds, who was staring over the other shoulder. "What's that thing got to do with the finger-prints?"
"Look here," said Godfrey, and held the glove so that the ends of the fingers lay in the full light.
Then I saw that against the end of every finger had been glued a strip of rubber, about an inch in length and half as wide; and, bending closer, I perceived that the surface of each of these strips was covered with an intricate pattern of minute lines.
"Forged finger-prints! That's a new idea in crime, isn't it, Simmonds?" and Godfrey laughed excitedly.
Simmonds took the glove, got out his pocket-glass, and examined the finger-tips minutely.
"You think these reproduce Swain's finger-prints?" he asked,