“To the roof?  What for?” demanded Simmonds, as he wrapped the glove in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket.

“You know how fond you are of fire-works!” retorted Godfrey, smiling, and started for the door.

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about,” said Hinman, “but I’m as curious as an old woman,—­and I like fire-works, too!”

“Come along, then,” laughed Godfrey, and led the way up the stairs.  “This time we’ll go as quietly as we can!” he added, over his shoulder.

In the entry at the top of the stairs leading to the attic story was a heavy closed door, and Godfrey looked at it with a smile.

“Do you suppose those two German servants have slept on through all this excitement?” he asked; and we found afterwards that they had!

The flare of Godfrey’s torch disclosed a third flight of stairs at the end of the entry, and, when we reached the foot of these and looked up, we found ourselves gazing at the stars.

“Ah!” said Godfrey; “I thought so!  The stage was set, ready for the curtain, and then the leading lady failed to appear.  So the villain went in search of her, found her with the glove in her hand, and started to suppress her, when our timely arrival interrupted him!  Gentlemen, I think I can promise you a most interesting demonstration.  What did Miss Vaughan call it, Lester?”

“An astral benediction,” I said.

“That’s it!” said Godfrey, and led the way up the steps.

There was a wide, hinged trap-door at the top, lying open, and we stepped through it out upon the roof.  Here had been built a platform about eight feet square, with a low railing around it.  I saw Godfrey’s torch playing rapidly over the boards of the platform, then he marshalled us in the middle of it.

“Stand here in a row,” he said, “facing the west.  Extend your arms to the heavens and concentrate your gaze upon that big star up yonder.  Go ahead, doctor,” he urged, as Hinman hesitated.  “We’re trying to persuade an astral visitor to pay us a call, and it takes team-work.”

We stood silent a moment, with our arms above our heads, and I could hear Godfrey shifting his feet cautiously along the boards of the floor.

“What’s that!” cried Simmonds, for, from the darkness at our feet, had come a soft whirr as of a bird taking flight.

“Look!” cried Hinman.  “Look!”

High above our heads a point of flame appeared, brightened and burned steel-blue.  For a moment it hung there, then it grew brighter and brighter, and I knew that it was descending.  Lower and lower it came, until it hovered in the air just above us; then it burst into a million sparks and vanished.

For a moment, no one spoke; then I heard Hinman’s voice, and it was decidedly unsteady.

“What is this, anyway?” he demanded.  “The Arabian Nights?”

“No,” said Godfrey, and in his voice was the ring of triumph.  “It’s merely a device of one of the cleverest fakirs who ever lived.  Take the torch, Simmonds, and let us see how it works.”