g to bed. And then, suddenly, I remembered something
the yogi had told me--that father was not strong, and that a fit of
anger might be very serious. I knew the servants had gone to bed, and
that 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 stood
for some moments on the top step before I could muster courage to go
down. At last, I _did_ go down and--and found my father!"

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

"Have you strength to tell me just what happened, Miss Vaughan?" I
asked 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 a
moment at the door, looking about the room, for at the first glance I
thought there was no one there. I thought, for an instant, that father
had gone into the grounds, for the curtain at the other door was
trembling 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 his
chair. I was sure he had had a seizure of some sort; I ran to him, and
raised his head...."

Again she stopped, her eyes covered, and a slow shudder shook her from
head to foot. I could guess what a shock the sight of that horrible
face 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 evidence
which could in any way help Swain was her discovery of the swaying
curtain, and even that, as Goldberger had pointed out, might easily
mean nothing.

"Miss Vaughan," I said, at last, "how long a time elapsed from the
moment 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 committed
very soon after Miss Vaughan came upstairs."

"Yes," agreed Goldberger, in a low tone, "and by somebody who came in
from 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 kn