“I summoned Dr. Hinman immediately,” he added, “for Miss Vaughan seemed to be in a serious condition; then I called Simmonds, and suggested that he stop for you, Mr. Coroner, for I knew that the case would interest you.  Dr. Hinman arrived perhaps half an hour ahead of you, and had Miss Vaughan put to bed at once.  And I guess you know the rest,” he concluded.

We had all listened intently.  I was pretty sure that Simmonds would make no inferences which Godfrey wished to avoid; but I feared the more penetrating mind of the coroner.  His first question proved that I was right to do so.

“Where is this man Swain?” he asked.

“He was suffering from the shock,” said Godfrey, “and Lester and Dr. Hinman took him over to my place and put him to bed.  That’s where they were when you got here.”

“He seemed to be suffering from a slight concussion,” Hinman explained.  “There was a swelling on one side of his head, as though some one had struck him, and the pupils of his eyes were unsymmetrical.  He had also a cut on the wrist,” he added, after an instant’s hesitation.

“Ah!” commented Goldberger, with a glance at Godfrey.  “Had it been bleeding?”

“He cut himself when crossing the wall,” Godfrey explained; “a mere scratch, but I believe it did bleed a good deal.”

“Ah!” said Goldberger again; and then he turned to the doctor.  “Did I understand you to say that he went to sleep?”

“He certainly did.  I gave him a good strong opiate to make sure of it.”

“Do you think he’ll sleep till morning?”

“He’ll sleep nine or ten hours, at least.”

“Then that’s all right,” said Goldberger, and settled back in his chair again.  “But didn’t anybody live in this house except that old man and his daughter?  Aren’t there any servants?”

“There must be some somewhere about,” answered Godfrey, to whom the question was addressed; “but Lester and I looked through the lower floor and part of the upper one and didn’t find any.  There’s a bell there by the door, but nobody answered when I rang.  We didn’t have time to go all over the house.  We did find one thing, though,” he added, as if by an afterthought.

“What was that?”

“There’s an adept in one of the rooms upstairs.”

Goldberger sat up and stared at him.

“An adept?” he repeated.  “What’s that?”

“An expert in mysticism.  I judge that Vaughan was his pupil.”

“Do you mean he’s a Hindu?” asked the coroner, as though that would explain everything.

But Godfrey was having his revenge.

“I don’t know whether he’s a Hindu or not,” he said, airily.  “I didn’t get a very good look at him.”

“What was he doing?” Goldberger demanded.

“He was just sitting there.”

Again Goldberger stared at him, this time suspiciously.

“But, good heavens, man!” he cried.  “That was three or four hours ago!  You don’t suppose he’s sitting there yet!”