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 surge