“Yes,” laughed Godfrey; “fact is, we haven’t been to bed yet.  Will you have something to eat, Lester, before you turn in?”

A glass of milk was all I wanted; and five minutes later I mounted to my room.  I glanced in for a moment at Swain, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully; and then darkened my room as well as I could and tumbled into bed.  I must have dropped asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, for I remember nothing more until I opened my eyes to find Godfrey standing over me.

CHAPTER XI

SWAIN’S STORY

“I hate to wake you, Lester,” Godfrey said, smiling, “but it’s nearly four o’clock.  Dr. Hinman will be here before long, and if you’re going to hear Swain’s story, you’ll have to be getting up.”

I sat up in bed at once, all trace of sleepiness vanished.

“How is he?” I asked.

“He seems to be all right.  He’s been up for some time.  I haven’t said anything to him about last night—­I wanted the doctor to see him first; besides, I thought you ought to be present.”

“I’ll be down right away,” I said, and twenty minutes later, I found Godfrey and Swain sitting together on the front porch.  As Swain returned my greeting, I was relieved to see that his eyes were no longer fixed and staring, but seemed quite normal.

“Mrs. Hargis has your breakfast ready,” said Godfrey, “and I think I’ll join you.  Will you come, Mr. Swain?”

“No, thank you,” Swain replied.  “I had my breakfast only about an hour ago.  I’ll just sit here, if you don’t mind.”

“All right,” said Godfrey, “we won’t be long,” and together we went back to the dining-room.

Mrs. Hargis was there, and greeted us as though stopping out till dawn and breakfasting at four o’clock in the afternoon were the most ordinary things in the world.  A copy of the Record was lying, as usual, on the table, and a black headline caught my eye: 

WORTHINGTON VAUGHAN
MURDERED

* * * * *

RICH RECLUSE STRANGLED TO
DEATH AT HIS HOME IN
THE BRONX

* * * * *

I glanced at Godfrey in surprise.

“Yes,” he said, reddening a little, “I was just in time to ’phone the story in for the last edition.  I called the doctor first, though, Lester—­you must give me credit for that!  And it was a beautiful scoop!”

“What time did you get up?” I asked.

“About noon.  I sent down the full story for to-morrow morning’s paper just before I called you.”

“Any developments?”

“None that I know of.  Of course, I haven’t heard Swain’s story yet.”

“Godfrey,” I said, “it seems to me that this thing is going to look bad for Swain—­I think Goldberger suspects him already.  A good deal depends upon his story.”

“Yes, it does,” Godfrey agreed.