Just in front of us, poised in the air some three feet from the floor, hung a sphere of crystal, glowing with a soft radiance which seemed to wax and wane, to quiver almost to darkness and then to burn more clearly.  It was like a dreamer’s pulse, fluttering, pausing, leaping, in accord with his vision.  And as I gazed at the sphere, I fancied I could see within it strange, elusive shapes, which changed and merged and faded from moment to moment, and yet grew always clearer and more suggestive.  I bent forward, straining my eyes to see them better, to fathom their meaning ...

Godfrey, turning to speak to me, saw my attitude and shook me roughly by the arm.

“Don’t do that, Lester!” he growled in my ear.  “Take your eyes off that crystal!”

I tried to move my eyes, but could not, until Godfrey pulled me around to face him.  I stood blinking at him stupidly.

“I was nearly gone, myself, before I realised the danger,” he said.  “A sphere like that can hypnotise a man more quickly than anything else on earth, especially when his resistance is lessened, as it is by this heavy perfume.”

“It was rather pleasant,” I said.  “I should like to try it some time.”

“Well, you can’t try it now.  You’ve got something else to do.  Besides, it has two victims already.”

“Two victims?”

“Look carefully, but keep your eyes off the sphere,” he said, and swung me around toward the room again.

The room was shrouded in impenetrable darkness, except for the faint and quivering radiance which the sphere emitted, and as I plunged my eyes into its depths in an effort to see what lay there, it seemed to me that I had never seen blackness so black.  As I stared into it, with straining eyes, a vague form grew dimly visible beside the glowing sphere; and then I recoiled a little, for suddenly it took shape and I saw it was a man.

I had a queer fancy, as I stood there, that it was really a picture into which I was gazing—­one of Rembrandt’s—­for, gradually, one detail after another emerged from the darkness, vague shadows took on shape and meaning, but farther back there was always more shadow, and farther back still more ...

The man was sitting cross-legged on a low divan, his hands crossed in front of him and hanging limply between his knees.  His clothing I could see but vaguely, for it was merged into the darkness about him, but his hands stood out white against it.  He was staring straight at the crystal, with unwavering and unwinking gaze, and sat as motionless as though carved in stone.  The glow from the sphere picked out his profile with a line of light—­I could see the high forehead, the strong, curved nose, the full lips shaded by a faint moustache, and the long chin, only partially concealed by a close-clipped beard.  It was a wonderful and compelling face, especially as I then saw it, and I gazed at it for a long moment.

“It’s the adept, I suppose,” said Godfrey, no longer taking care to lower his voice.