“Have you any other evidence to introduce, Mr. Lester?” he asked.

“No, Your Honour,” I answered, and I saw the cloud of disappointment which fell upon the faces of reporters and photographers.  To have been able to feature Miss Vaughan would have meant an extra column.  I could also see, from the expression on the faces of the jury, that my failure to put her on the stand made an unfavourable impression.  There was, indeed, only one inference to draw from it.

Goldberger turned aside for a few words with the prosecutor, and I suspected that he was telling him of Miss Vaughan’s discovery of the blood-stained handkerchief; but there was no way to get the story before the jury without calling her.  They seemed to agree, at last, that they had evidence enough, for the jury was instructed to prepare its verdict.  Its members withdrew a little distance under the trees, and gathered into a group to talk it over.

I watched them for a moment, and then I turned to Swain.

“I suppose you know,” I said, “that they’re certain to find against you?  Even if they don’t, the district attorney will cause your arrest right away.”

He nodded.

“I’m not worrying about that.  I’m worrying about Miss Vaughan.  You won’t forget your promise?”

“No.”

“She’ll have no one but you,” he went on rapidly.  “Neither will I!  You mustn’t fail us!”

“I shan’t,” I promised.  “But you’d better think about yourself a little, Swain.”

“Plenty of time for that when I’m sure that Marjorie’s safe.  The minute you tell me she’s at the Royces’, I’ll begin to think about myself.  I’m not afraid.  I didn’t kill that man.  No jury would convict me.”

I might have told him that convictions are founded on evidence, and that the evidence in this case was certainly against him, but I thought it better to hold my peace.  The more confident he was, the less irksome he would find imprisonment.  So I sat silent until the members of the jury filed back into their places.

“Have you reached a verdict, gentlemen?” the coroner asked, after his clerk had polled them.

“Yes, Your Honour,” the foreman answered.

“What is the verdict?”

The foreman held out a folded paper to the clerk, who took it, opened it, and read: 

“We, the jury in the inquest held this thirteenth day of June, 1908, into the death of one Worthington Vaughan, residing in the Borough of the Bronx, City of New York, do find that the deceased came to his death by strangulation at the hands of one Frederic Swain.”

There was an instant’s silence, and then Goldberger turned to the jury.

“Is this your verdict, gentlemen?” he asked quietly; and each juryman replied in the affirmative as his name was called.  “I thank you for your services,” Goldberger added, directed his clerk to give them their vouchers on the city treasurer, and dismissed them.