“I gathered from what she told me,” said Swain, his face flushing with anger, “that she has been practically a prisoner ever since the yogi arrived.  Besides, even if she had succeeded in mailing the letter, it wouldn’t have reached me until too late.”

“In what way too late?”

“Her father seems to have had a sudden turn for the worse yesterday; he became almost violent in insisting that she consent to his plan.  He told her that the life of his own soul as well as of hers depended upon it.  He threatened—­I don’t know what.  The yogi talked to her afterwards.  He, of course, believed, or pretended to believe, as her father did; moreover, he told her that her father would certainly suffer a serious mental shock if she refused, perhaps a fatal one.  In despair, she finally agreed, on the condition that she be given three days in which to prepare herself.  If she did not hear from me in that time, she had made up her mind to consent.”

Swain stopped again, and I lay back in my chair, wondering if such things were possible in this twentieth century, here within the boundaries of Greater New York!  My brain reeled at the absurdity of it!

“Vaughan was undoubtedly suffering from mania,” said Dr. Hinman, in a low voice.  “The symptoms, as Mr. Swain describes them, are unmistakable.”

“It was that argument I used,” said Swain.  “I told her that, since he was clearly mad, she must, in self-defence, place herself beyond his reach.  But she refused to leave him.  Then, I argued, in kindness to him she must have him committed to some institution where he would be taken care of, and where he might, in time, regain his sanity.  I told her that it would be criminal folly to permit him to remain longer under the influence of the yogi.  She had to agree with me; and she finally consented to sign an affidavit to the facts as I have told them, and a petition asking that a commission be appointed to examine her father.  You were to have drawn up the papers to-day, Mr. Lester, and I was to have taken them to her for signature to-night.”

“That would have settled the matter,” said Godfrey, thoughtfully.  “It’s too bad it wasn’t settled in that way.  What else happened, Mr. Swain?”

“Miss Vaughan had grown very nervous, with all this discussion, and at last she sprang to her feet and said she must go, or her father would discover her absence.  We rose to leave the arbour, and at that instant, a white-robed figure sprang to her side, seized her and tore her away from me.  I was too startled for an instant to resist; then, as I started toward them, Marjorie pushed me back.

“‘Go!  Go!’ she cried.  ‘It is my father!’

“But he stopped me.  In a voice shaking and husky with rage, he warned me that if I entered the place again, my life would be forfeit.  I can’t repeat the horrible things he said.  I could see his eyes gleaming like a wild beast’s.  He cursed me.  I had never been cursed before,” and Swain smiled thinly, “and I confess it wasn’t pleasant.  Then he led his daughter away.