he
case?"

"Yes," I said, thoughtfully. "And the yogi--is he also a Thug?"

"Oh, no; a White Priest of Siva could never be a Thug. The worship of
Siva and of Kali are the very opposites of each other. The Saivas are
ascetics. That is," he added, in another tone, "if the fellow is
really a Saiva and not just a plain fraud."

"All these fellows are frauds, more or less, aren't they?" I
questioned.

"No," was Godfrey's unexpected answer; "the real yogin are no doubt
sincere; but a real yogi wouldn't waste his time on a soft-brained old
man, and fire sky-rockets off at midnight to impress him. My own
opinion is that this fellow is a fakir--a juggler, a sleight-of-hand
man--and, of course, a crook."

"Well?" I asked, as Godfrey stopped and failed to continue.

"Well, that's as far as I've got. Oh, yes--there's Toto. A cobra is
one of a fakir's stock properties."

"But, Godfrey," I protested, "he is no ignorant roadside juggler. He's
a cultivated man--an unusual man."

"Certainly he is--most unusual. But that doesn't disprove my guess; it
only makes the problem harder. Even a roadside juggler doesn't do his
tricks for nothing--what reward is it this fellow's working for? It
must be a big one, or it wouldn't tempt him."

"I suppose Vaughan paid him well," I ventured.

"Yes; but did you look at him, Lester? You've called him unusual, but
that word doesn't begin to express him. He's extraordinary. No doubt
Vaughan _did_ pay him well, but it would take something more than that
to persuade such a man to spend six months in a place like that. And I
think I can guess at the stake he's playing for."

"You mean Miss Vaughan?"

"Just that," and Godfrey leaned back in his chair.

I contemplated this theory for some moments in silence. It was, at
least, a theory and an interesting one--but it rested on air. There
was no sort of foundation for it that I could see, and at last I said
so.

"I know it's pretty thin," Godfrey admitted, "but it's the best I've
been able to do--there's so little to build a theory out of. But I'm
going to see if I can't prove one part of it true to-night."

"Which part?"

"About his being a fakir. Here's my theory: that hocus-pocus on the
roof at midnight was for the purpose of impressing Vaughan. No doubt
he believed it a real spiritual manifestation, whereas it was only a
clever bit of jugglery. Now that Vaughan is dead, that particular bit
of jugglery will cease until there is some new v