“Who’s got an extra gun?” he demanded, and one of the detectives pressed one into his hand.  “Ready, now, men,” he added, crossed the hall, threw open the outer door into Silva’s room, and flung back the drapery beyond.

My heart was in my throat as I peered over Godfrey’s shoulder at what lay within; and then a gasp of amazement from my companions mingled with my own.

For the crystal sphere was glowing softly, and seated cross-legged on the divan, his hands folded, his eyes fixed in meditation, was Silva.

We all stood for a moment staring at him, then Godfrey passed his hand dazedly before his eyes.

“You two men stay on guard here,” he said.  “One of you keep your torch on this fellow, and the other keep his torch on the floor.  There’s a cobra around somewhere.”

An arc of light swept shakingly across the floor, as one of the men turned his torch toward it.  But I saw no sign of Toto.

“Lester, you and Simmonds come with me,” Godfrey added, stepped back into the hall, and tapped at the door of Miss Vaughan’s bedroom.

There was no response, and he tapped again.  Then he tried the door, found it unlocked, and opened it.  He sent a ray of light skimming about the room; then he found the switch, turned on the lights, and entered.

The room was empty, as were the dressing-room and bath-room adjoining.  The covers of the bed had been turned back, ready for its occupant, but the bed was undisturbed.

Godfrey glanced about the room again, a sort of frenzied concentration in his gaze, and then went out, leaving the lights burning.  It took but a moment or two to look through the other suites.  They were all empty.

“If Miss Vaughan was anywhere about, and unharmed,” said Godfrey, “the noise we made would have brought her out to investigate.  There’s only one place she can be,” and he led the way resolutely back to the door of Silva’s room.

The yogi had not moved.

Godfrey contemplated him for a moment, with his torch full on the bearded face.  Then he crossed the threshold, his torch sweeping the floor in front of him.

“Let’s see what the Thug is up to,” he said, crossed the room, drew back the drapery, and opened the door into the little closet where we had seen Mahbub once before.

There was a burst of acrid smoke into the room, and Godfrey stepped back with a stifled exclamation.

“Come here, you fellows!” he cried, and Simmonds and I sprang to his side.

For a moment I could see nothing; the rolling clouds of smoke blinded and choked me; I could feel the tears running down my cheeks and my throat burned as though it had been scalded.

Then the smoke lifted a little, and I caught a glimpse of what lay within the room.

In the middle of the floor stood an open brazier, with a thin yellow flame hovering above it, now bright, now dim, as the smoke whirled about it.  Before the brazier, sat Mahbub, his legs crossed with feet uppermost, his hands pressed palm to palm before his face.