“But not in the least like the photographs,” put in Goldberger, drily.

“No,” and Sylvester flushed a little as he felt himself jerked from his hobby.  “None of the prints we have taken this afternoon resemble the photographs in any way.”

“But those made by Mr. Swain do resemble them?”

“It is more than a resemblance.  They are identical with them.”

“What inference do you draw from that?”

“It is more than an inference,” Sylvester retorted.  “It is a certainty.  I am willing to swear that the finger-prints on the robe worn by the murdered man were made by Frederic Swain.”

“You realise the serious nature of this assertion?” asked the coroner, slowly.

“I realise it fully.”

“And that realisation does not cause you to modify it in any way?”

“It cannot be modified,” said Sylvester, firmly, “however serious it may be, however reluctant I may be to make it—­it cannot be modified because it is the truth.”

There was a moment’s silence, then Goldberger turned to me.

“Have you any questions to ask the witness, Mr. Lester?”

“No,” I answered; “I have none.”

Sylvester bent again above his prints, while the coroner and the prosecutor held a brief consultation.  Then Goldberger turned back to me.

“Have you anything further, Mr. Lester?” he asked.  “Our evidence is all in, I believe.”

I was driven to my last entrenchment.

“I should like to call Miss Vaughan,” I said, “if Dr. Hinman thinks she is strong enough.”

Swain’s chair creaked as he swung toward me.

“No, no!” he whispered, angrily.  “Don’t do that!  Spare her that!”

But I waved him away, for it was his honour and welfare I had to consider, not Miss Vaughan’s convenience, and turned to Dr. Hinman, who was evidently struggling between two duties.  One was his duty to his patient; the other his duty to a man cruelly threatened, whom his patient’s testimony might save.

“Well, what do you say, doctor?” asked the coroner.

“Miss Vaughan is no doubt able to testify,” said the doctor, slowly, “but I should like to spare her as much as possible.  Couldn’t her deposition be taken privately?  I think you mentioned something of the sort.”

Goldberger looked at me.

“I shall be satisfied,” I said, “to question her in the presence of Mr. Goldberger, reserving the right to put her on the stand, should I deem it necessary to do so.”

“Very well,” agreed the doctor.  “I will prepare her,” and he hurried away toward the house.

Swain was gripping my arm savagely.

“See here, Mr. Lester,” he said in my ear, his voice shaking with anger, “I’m in deadly earnest about this.  Take Miss Vaughan’s deposition if you wish, but under no circumstances shall she be hauled before this crowd, in her present condition, and compelled to testify.”