but not a
scintilla of evidence had as yet been introduced as to who had
strangled him. Then a movement of interest ran through the crowd, for
a policeman came from the direction of the house accompanied by two
strange figures. One was the yogi, in robes of dazzling white; the
other his attendant, wearing something more than a diaper, indeed, but
with his thin brown legs bare.

The yogi bowed to Goldberger with grave courtesy, and, at a word from
the attendant policeman, sat down in the witness-chair. Everybody was
leaning forward looking at him, and the cameras were clicking in
chorus, but he seemed scarcely aware of the circle of eager faces.

"Hold up your right hand, please," began Goldberger, after
contemplating him for a moment.

"For what purpose?" asked the yogi.

"I'm going to swear you."

"I do not understand."

"I'm going to put you on oath to tell nothing but the truth,"
explained the coroner.

"An oath is unnecessary," said the yogi with a smile. "To speak the
truth is required by my religion."

There was something impressive in the words, and Goldberger slowly
lowered his arm.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Francisco Silva."

"You are not a Hindu?"

"I am of their faith."

"But by birth?"

"I am a Portuguese."

"Born in India?"

"Born at Goa."

The coroner paused. He had never heard of Goa. Neither had I. Neither,
I judged, had any one else present. In this, however, I was wrong.
Godfrey had heard of it, and afterwards referred me to Marryat's
"Phantom Ship" as his source of information.

"Goa," Silva explained, seeing our perplexity, "is a colony owned by
Portugal on the Malabar coast, some distance below Bombay."

"How does it come that you speak English so well?"

"I was educated at Bombay, and afterwards at Oxford and at Paris."

"But you are by religion a Hindu?"

"I am a Saiva--a follower of Siva, the Lord of life and death."

As he spoke, he touched his forehead with the fingers of his left
hand. There was a moment's silence. Goldberger's moustache, I noted
with a smile, was beginning to suffer again.

"You are what is called an adept?" he asked, at last.

"Some may call me that," said Silva, "but incorrectly. Among my fellow
Saivas, I am known as a White Priest, a yogi, a teacher of the law."

"Mr. Vaughan was your pupil?"

"Yes; for six months he was my pupil."

"In what way did you come to accept this position?"

"Two years ago, Mr. Vaughan visited the