It's up to us
to explain it away. Now, think carefully before you answer my
questions: Have you any recollection, however faint, of having seen
Mahbub before this morning?"
Swain sat for quite a minute searching his consciousness. Then, to my
great disappointment, he shook his head.
"No," he said; "I am sure I never saw him before."
"Nor Silva?"
"No, nor Silva--except, of course, the time, three or four months ago,
when he gave me Mr. Vaughan's message."
"Have you a distinct recollection that the library was empty when you
sprang into it?"
"Yes; very distinct. I remember looking about it, and then running
past the table and discovering Miss Vaughan."
"You saw her father also?"
"Yes; but I merely glanced at him. I realised that he was dead."
"And you also have a distinct recollection that you did not approach
him or touch him?"
"I am quite certain of that," answered Swain, positively.
"Then I give it up," said Godfrey, and lay back in his chair.
There was a queer boiling of ideas in my mind; ideas difficult to
clothe with words, and composed of I know not what farrago of
occultism, mysticism, and Oriental magic; but at last I managed to
simmer them down to a timid question:
"I know it sounds foolish, but wouldn't it be possible, Godfrey, to
explain all this by hypnosis, or occult influence, or something of
that sort?"
Godfrey turned and looked at me.
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