"There is only one explanation that I can see," said Godfrey, at last. "Swain, you remember, got to the library about a minute ahead of us, and when we reached the door he was lifting Miss Vaughan to the couch. In that minute, he must have touched the dead man."
Swain shook his head doubtfully.
"I don't see why I should have done that," he said.
"It isn't a question of why you did it," Godfrey pointed out. "It's a question of whether you did it. Go over the scene in your mind, recalling as many details as you can, and then we'll go over it together, step by step, after lunch."
It was a silent meal, and when it was over, Godfrey led the way into his study.
"Now," he began, when we were seated, "where was Miss Vaughan at the moment you sprang through the door?"
"She was lying on the floor by the table, in front of her father's chair," Swain replied.
"You are sure of that?"
"Yes; I didn't see her until I ran around the table."
"I was hoping," said Godfrey, "that she had fainted with her arms clasped about her father's neck, and that, in freeing them, you made those marks on his robe."