upon a specimen wonderful and precious.

"Well," he said, looking up, at last, "I've learned something new
to-day. These prints shall have the place of honour. They might not be
a means of identification among the Thugs, but I'll wager there's no
collection in America has a set like them! They're unique!"

"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