“The change in your father was undoubtedly directly traceable to it,” Godfrey agreed.  “During those periods of crystal-gazing, he was really in a state of hypnosis, induced by Silva, with his mind bare to Silva’s suggestions; and as these were repeated, he became more and more a mere echo of Silva’s personality.  That was what Silva desired for you, also.”

“I felt something of the sort, though I never really understood it,” said Miss Vaughan; “and as I sat there on the divan that Sunday afternoon, with his burning eyes upon me, I was terribly afraid.  His will was so much stronger than mine, and besides, I could not keep my eyes from the crystal.  In the end, I had a vision—­a dreadful vision.”

She pressed her hands to her eyes, as though it was still before her.

“The vision of your father’s death?” I questioned.

She nodded.

“With Swain as the murderer?”

“How did you know?” she asked, astonished.

“Because he induced the same vision in me the next evening.  But don’t let me interrupt.”

“I don’t know how long the seance lasted,” she continued; “some hours, I suppose, for it was dark when I again realised where I was.  And after dinner, there was another; and then at midnight he led me to the roof and invoked what he called an astral benediction—­a wonderful, wonderful thing....”

Godfrey smiled drily.

“You were over-wrought, Miss Vaughan,” he said, “and straight from a spell of crystal-gazing.  No wonder it impressed you.  But it was really only a clever trick.”

“I realise, now, that it must have been a trick,” she agreed; “but at the time it seemed an unquestionable proof of his divine power.  When it was over, I had just sufficient strength of will remaining to tear myself away from him and gain my own room and lock the door.”

“You mean he tried to detain you?”

“Not with his hands.  But I could feel his will striving to conquer mine.  Even after I was in my room, I could feel him calling me.  In the morning, I was stronger.  I lay in bed until nearly noon, trying to form some plan; but I began to fear that I must give it up.  I realised that, after a few more nights like the night before, I should no longer have a will of my own—­that what I was pretending would became reality.  I decided that I could risk one more day—­perhaps two; but I felt very weak and discouraged.  You see, I did not know what to look for, or where to look.  I wanted evidence against him, but I had no idea what the evidence would be.  I wanted to search his room, but I had not been able to, because he was scarcely ever out of it, except when he was with me; and, besides, Mahbub was always squatting in the little closet next to it.