ars your talk in the
arbour; and he finds that there is another reason than that of
jealousy why he must act at once. If your father is found to be
insane, the will drawn up only three days before will be invalid.
Silva will lose everything--not only you, but the fortune already
within his grasp.

"He hurries to the house and tells your father of the rendezvous. Your
father rushes out and brings you back, after a bitter quarrel with
Swain, which Silva has, of course, foreseen. You come up to your room;
your father flings himself into his chair again. It is Silva who has
followed you--who has purposely made a noise in order that you might
think it was Swain. And he carries in his hand the blood-soaked
handkerchief which Swain dropped when he fled from the arbour.

"Up to this point," Godfrey went on, more slowly, "everything is
clear--every detail fits every other detail perfectly. But, in the
next step of the tragedy, one detail is uncertain--whose hand was it
drew the cord around your father's throat? I am inclined to think it
was Mahbub's. If Silva had done the deed, he would probably have
chosen a method less Oriental; but Mahbub, even under hypnotic
suggestion, would kill only in the way to which he was accustomed--with
a noose. Pardon me," he added, quickly, as she shrank into her chair,
"I have forgotten how repellent this must be to you. I have
spoken brutally."

"Please go on," she murmured. "It is right that I should hear it. I
can bear it."

"There is not much more to tell," said Godfrey, gently. "Whoever it
was that drew the cord, it was Silva who moistened the glove from the
blood-soaked handkerchief, made the marks upon your father's robe, and
then dropped the handkerchief beside his chair. Then he returned
softly to his room, closed the door, put away the glove, cleansed his
hands, made sure that Mahbub was in his closet, took his place upon
the divan, and waited. I think we know the rest. And now, Lester," he
added, turning to me, "we would better be getting to town. Remember,
Swain is still in the Tombs."

"You are right," I said, and rose to take my leave, but Miss Vaughan,
her eyes shining, stopped me with a hand upon the sleeve.

"I should like to go with you, Mr. Lester," she said. "May I?"

The colour deepened in her cheeks as she met my gaze, and I understood
what was in her heart. So did Godfrey.

"I'll have my car around in ten minutes," he said, and hastened away.

"I have only to pu