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<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> <h2>THE WHITE PRIEST OF SIVA</h2> The adept was an impressive figure, as he stood there with the sun behind him, throwing a yellow nimbus around his head. The robe he wore was of a rich purple, and gave an added effect of height and dignity to a figure already tall. His hair was dark and crinkled like wind-swept water, his complexion dark, but with an under-blush of red in the cheeks. His lips were scarlet and his eyes coal-black and of an arresting brilliance. The whole effect he gave was of transcendent energy and magnetism, nor did he show the slightest fatigue from his long vigil. His eyes swept our faces, as we stood crowded there in the doorway. He did not seem surprised. If there was any expression in his face except courteous inquiry, it was one of carefully suppressed amusement. "Enter, friends," he repeated. "What is it you desire?" His voice was rich and deep, and he spoke with a peculiar intonation, but without accent. It was something of a shock to hear the ordinary words of English speech coming from his lips, for they seemed formed to utter prophecies in unknown tongues. Goldberger took one step into the room, and then stopped abruptly. Following his eyes, I saw that the cobra had also awakened from its trance, and was regarding us steadily and hissing slightly. The adept smiled as he saw us shrink back. "Do not fear," he said. "Come, Toto," and stepping across the room, he lifted the cobra in one hand and held it a moment close to him, gently stroking the distended hood. The snake curled itself about his arm and seemed to cuddle to him, but it kept its eyes fixed on us. I could not but smile at the incongruity of its name. Toto was well enough for a French poodle, but for a cobra! After a moment, the adept lifted the lid of a round basket which stood on the floor near the divan, dropped the snake gently into it, and fastened down the lid. Then he clapped his hands softly, and an instant later the curtains at the rear of the room parted and a strange figure appeared between them. It was the figure of a man, not over five feet tall and very thin. He was almost as dark as a full-blooded negro, and the white burnoose which was thrown about his shoulders and covered him to just below the hips, made him look even darker. His legs were bare and seemed to be nothing but skin and bone. The flat-nosed face, with its full lips and prominent eyes, reminded me of an idol I had seen pictured somewhere. The newcomer bowed low before the adept, and, at a sign from him, picked up Toto's basket and disappeared with it through the curtains. He had not even glanced in our direction. The adept turned back to us. "Now, friends," he said, "will you not enter?" Goldberger led the way into the room and stopped to look about it. The walls were hung with black velvet, so arranged that windows and doors could be covered also, and the room was absolutely devoid of furniture, save for a low, circular divan in the centre of which stood the crystal sphere, supported, as I saw now, by a slender pedestal. "I have a few questions to ask you," began Goldberger at last, in a voice deferential despite himself. "Proceed, sir," said the adept, courteously. "Do you know that Mr. Vaughan is dead?" The adept made a little deprecating gesture. "Not dead," he protested. "A man does not die. His soul rejoins the Over-soul, that is all. Yes, I know that at midnight the soul of my pupil passed over." "How did you learn that?" Goldberger demanded. "I saw it in the sphere," replied the adept calmly. "Where were you at the time?" "I was gazing at the sphere." "Do you mean," asked Goldberger incredulously, "that you sat for five hours and more staring at that thing?" "My vigil began at sundown," said the adept, with a slight smile. "Last night was the White Night of Siva. It must be spent in meditation by all who follow him." Goldberger worried his moustache with nervous fingers, as he stared at the adept, plainly at a loss how to proceed. "Perhaps," ventured Godfrey, softly, "your crystal could give us some further information which we very much desire." The adept turned his dark eyes on the speaker, and it seemed to me that they glittered more coldly, as though they recognised an adversary. "What information, sir?" he asked. "Information as to the manner of Mr. Vaughan's passing—can you tell us anything of that?" The adept shook his head. "I only saw the soul as it passed over. I knew, however, that it had been torn from the body by violence." "How did you know that?" broke in Goldberger. "Because of its colour," answered the adept; and then, when he saw our benumbed expressions, he explained. "Souls which pass in peace are white; souls which the body has driven forth by its own hands are black; souls which are torn from the body by an alien hand are red. My pupil's soul was red." I could see that Goldberger did not know whether to snort with derision or to be impressed. He ended by smiling feebly. As for me, I admit I was impressed. "When an alien hand, as you put it, is used," said the coroner, "we call it murder in this country, and the law tries to get hold of the alien and to send his soul after his victim's. That's what we are trying to do now. We are officers of the law." The adept bowed. "Any assistance I can give you," he said, softly, "I shall be glad to give; though to do murder, as you call it, is not always to do wrong." "Our law doesn't make such nice distinctions," said Goldberger, drily. "May I ask your profession?" "I am a White Priest of Siva," said the adept, touching his forehead lightly with the fingers of his left hand, as in reverence. "Who is Siva?" "The Holy One, the Over-soul, from whom we come and to whom we all return." Again Goldberger worried his moustache. "Well," he said, at last, "until the mystery is cleared up, I must ask you not to leave this house." "I have no wish to leave it, sir." "And the other fellow—the fellow who took away the snake—where was he last night?" "He slept in a small room opening into this one." "May I look into it?" "Certainly," and the adept swept aside the curtains. The room into which we looked was not more than ten feet square, and empty of furniture, except for a mat in the middle of the floor and three or four baskets set against the wall. On the mat was squatted the attendant, his legs crossed with feet uppermost, and his hands held palm to palm before him. On the floor in front of him were what looked to me like a strip of cloth, a bone and a tooth. He did not raise his eyes at our entrance, but sat calmly contemplating these relics. Goldberger's moustache lost a few more hairs as he stood staring down at this strange figure. "What are those things? His grandmother's remains?" he asked, at last. "Those are the attributes of Kali," said the adept gravely, as one rebuking blasphemy. "Very interesting, no doubt," commented the coroner drily. "Would it disturb the gentleman too much to ask him a few questions?" "He speaks no English, but I shall be glad to translate for you." The coroner thought this over for a moment, and then shook his head. "No," he said; "I'll wait for the court interpreter. You might tell him, though, that there will be officers of the law on duty below, and that he is not to leave the house." "I will caution him," answered the adept, and let the curtain fall, as we passed out. "I suppose there are some other servants somewhere about the place?" asked Goldberger. "There are three—they sleep on the floor above." "Are they Hindus, too?" "Oh, no," and the adept smiled. "Two of them are German and the other is Irish." The coroner reddened a little, for the words somehow conveyed a subtle rebuke. "That is all for to-day," he said; "unless Mr. Simmonds has some questions?" and he looked at his companion. But Simmonds, to whom all these inquiries had plainly been successive steps into the darkness, shook his head. "Then we will bid you good-morning," added Goldberger, still a little on his dignity. "And many thanks for your courtesy." The adept responded with a low bow and with a smile decidedly ironical. I, at least, felt that we had got the worst of the encounter. Goldberger, without a word, led the way up the stair that mounted to the attic story, and there soon succeeded in routing out the three servants. The Germans proved to be a man and wife, well past middle age, the former the gardener and the latter the cook. Erin was represented by a red-haired girl who was the housemaid. All of them were horrified when told their master had been murdered, but none of them could shed any light on the tragedy. They had all been in bed long before midnight, and had not been disturbed by any of the noises of the night. This could be the more readily understood when, as a little investigation showed, we found that they had all slept with doors locked and windows closed and shuttered. Any sounds from the house would really have to penetrate two doors to reach them, for their rooms were at the end of an entry, closed by an outer door. As to the windows, it was the rule of the house that they should always be closed and tightly shuttered during the night. They knew of no especial reason for the rule, though the Irish girl remarked that, with heathen in the house and lunatics, there was no telling how the nights were spent. They were all evidently innocent of any connection with the tragedy; but Goldberger, for some ridiculous reason, brought them downstairs with him and made them look at their master's body. This had no result except to send the Irish girl into hysterics, and Hinman for a few minutes had another patient on his hands. "Well," said Goldberger, passing his hand wearily across his forehead, "I guess there's nothing more to be done. And I'm dead tired. I had just got to bed when Simmonds called me. I'll set the inquest for ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and I'll hold it here in this room. We'll want you here, Mr. Godfrey, and you, Mr. Lester. And—oh, yes," he added suddenly, "we'll want that Mr. Swain, whose story I haven't heard yet. No doubt of his appearing is there?" "Absolutely none," I assured him. "I could put him under guard, of course," said Goldberger, pensively, "for I'm sure he'll prove to be a very important witness; but if you will be personally responsible for him, Mr. Lester...." "I will," I agreed, and Goldberger nodded. "Have him here at ten o'clock, then," he said. "Dr. Hinman would better see him again to-day," I suggested. "I'll call about four o'clock this afternoon," the doctor promised; and, leaving Goldberger to complete his arrangements and Simmonds to post his men, Godfrey and I stepped out upon the lawn. It was after five o'clock and the sun was already high. It scarcely seemed possible that, only six hours before, Swain had crossed the wall for the first time! "We'd better go out as we came," Godfrey said, and turned across the lawn. He walked with head down and face puckered with thought. "Can you make anything of it?" I asked, but he only shook his head. We soon reached the ladder, and Godfrey paused to look about him. The shrubbery was broken in one place, as though some heavy body had fallen on it, and this was evidently the mark of Swain's wild jump from the wall. At last, Godfrey motioned me to precede him, and, when I was over, reached one ladder down to me and descended to my side. We replaced the ladders against the shed, and then walked on toward the house. As we turned the corner, we found Mrs. Hargis standing on the front porch. "Well, you are out early!" she said. "Yes," laughed Godfrey; "fact is, we haven't been to bed yet. Will you have something to eat, Lester, before you turn in?" A glass of milk was all I wanted; and five minutes later I mounted to my room. I glanced in for a moment at Swain, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully; and then darkened my room as well as I could and tumbled into bed. I must have dropped asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, for I remember nothing more until I opened my eyes to find Godfrey standing over me. <hr style='width: 65%;' /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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