“Do you know why?”

“Yes,” and she flushed a little, but went on bravely.  “He believed that Mr. Swain wished to marry me.”

“As, in fact, he did,” I commented.

“Yes; or, at least, he did before his financial troubles came.  After that, he wished to give me up.”

“But you refused to be given up?”

“Yes,” she said, and looked at me with eyes beautifully radiant.  “I refused to be given up.”

I felt that I was rushing in where angels would hesitate to enter, and beat a hasty retreat.

“Was your father always opposed to your marriage?” I asked.

“No; he has wanted me to wait until I was of age; but he never absolutely forbade it until a few months ago.  It was at the time he first tried to persuade me to become a convert to Hinduism.”

“What occurred after you and your father reached the house?”

“Father was very angry, and demanded that I promise never to see Mr. Swain again.  When I refused to promise, he sent me to my room, forbidding me to leave it without his permission.  I came up at once, more than ever convinced that father needed medical attention.  I was very nervous and over-wrought, and I sat down by the window to control myself before going to bed.  And then, suddenly, I remembered something the yogi had told me—­that father was not strong, and that a fit of anger might be very serious.  I knew the servants had gone to bed, and that he must be downstairs alone, since I had heard no one come up.”

“You had heard no one in the hall at all?” I asked.

“No, I had heard no one.  But I remember, as I started down the stairs, a curious feeling of dread seized me.  It was so strong that I stood for some moments on the top step before I could muster courage to go down.  At last, I did go down and—­and found my father!”

She stopped, her hands over her eyes, as though to shut away the remembrance of that dreadful sight.

“Have you strength to tell me just what happened, Miss Vaughan?” I asked gently.

She controlled herself with an effort and took her hands from her face.

“Yes,” she said; “I can tell you.  I remember that I stood for a moment at the door, looking about the room, for at the first glance I thought there was no one there.  I thought, for an instant, that father had gone into the grounds, for the curtain at the other door was trembling a little, as though someone had just passed.”

“Ah!” I said, and looked at Goldberger.

“It might have been merely the breeze, might it not?” he asked.

“I suppose so.  The next instant I saw my father huddled forward in his chair.  I was sure he had had a seizure of some sort; I ran to him, and raised his head....”

Again she stopped, her eyes covered, and a slow shudder shook her from head to foot.  I could guess what a shock the sight of that horrible face had been!