“I wanted to obtain a lamp of a certain pattern,” continued Carrados.  “It seemed to me that the simplest explanation would be to say that I wanted it for a motor-car.  Naturally I went to Long Acre.  At the first shop I said:  ’Wasn’t it here that a friend of mine, an Indian gentleman, recently had a lamp made with a green glass that was nearly five inches across?’ No, it was not there but they could make me one.  At the next shop the same; at the third, and fourth, and so on.  Finally my persistence was rewarded.  I found the place where the lamp had been made, and at the cost of ordering another I obtained all the details I wanted.  It was news to them, the shopman informed me, that in some parts of India green was the danger colour and therefore tail lamps had to show a green light.  The incident made some impression on him and he would be able to identify their customer—­who paid in advance and gave no address—­among a thousand of his countrymen.  Do I succeed in interesting you, Mr. Drishna?”

“Do you?” replied Drishna, with a languid yawn.  “Do I look interested?”

“You must make allowance for my unfortunate blindness,” apologized Carrados, with grim irony.

“Blindness!” exclaimed Drishna, dropping his affectation of unconcern as though electrified by the word, “do you mean—­really blind—­that you do not see me?”

“Alas, no,” admitted Carrados.

The Indian withdrew his right hand from his coat pocket and with a tragic gesture flung a heavy revolver down on the table between them.

“I have had you covered all the time, Mr. Carrados, and if I had wished to go and you or your friend had raised a hand to stop me, it would have been at the peril of your lives,” he said, in a voice of melancholy triumph.  “But what is the use of defying fate, and who successfully evades his destiny?  A month ago I went to see one of our people who reads the future and sought to know the course of certain events.  ‘You need fear no human eye,’ was the message given to me.  Then she added:  ’But when the sightless sees the unseen, make your peace with Yama.’  And I thought she spoke of the Great Hereafter!”

“This amounts to an admission of your guilt,” exclaimed Mr. Carlyle practically.

“I bow to the decree of fate,” replied Drishna.  “And it is fitting to the universal irony of existence that a blind man should be the instrument.  I don’t imagine, Mr. Carlyle,” he added maliciously, “that you, with your eyes, would ever have brought that result about.”

“You are a very cold-blooded young scoundrel, sir!” retorted Mr. Carlyle.  “Good heavens! do you realize that you are responsible for the death of scores of innocent men and women?”