The effect of gazing at these intently for a time was to abstract the mind from normal sensory impressions, and to induce a state of partial hypnosis during which the scryer claimed he could perceive in the crystal dream-pictures of great vividness, scenes at a distance, occurrences of the past, and of the future.

I was still deep in this, when I heard a step outside, the door opened, and Godfrey came in.  He smiled when he saw what I was doing.

“How have you been getting along?” he asked.

“Not very well,” and I threw the book back on the table.  “The crystal-gazing isn’t so bad—­one can understand that; but the jumble of abstractions which the Hindus call religion is too much for me.  I didn’t know it was so late,” I added, and looked at my watch; but it was not yet eleven o’clock.

“I’m earlier than usual,” said Godfrey.  “I cut loose as soon as I could, because I thought we’d better talk things over.  I saw Simmonds in town to-night.”

“Ah,” I said; “and what did he tell you?”

“Nothing I didn’t know already.  The police have discovered nothing new—­or, if they have, they’re keeping it dark until to-morrow.  Simmonds did, however, regale me with his theory of the case.  He says the murder was done either by one of the Hindus or by young Swain.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

“I’m inclined to agree with Simmonds,” said Godfrey, grimly.  “With the emphasis on the Hindus,” he added, seeing the look on my face, “I don’t believe Swain had any hand in it.”

“Neither do I,” I agreed, heartily.  “In fact, such a theory is too absurd to discuss.”

“Just the same,” said Godfrey, slowly, “I’m glad he didn’t touch Vaughan.  If he had happened to seize him by the neck, while they were struggling together,—­in other words, if those finger-prints Goldberger found had happened to be Swain’s—­things would have looked bad for him.  I’m hoping they’ll turn out to belong to one of the Hindus—­but, as I said to Goldberger, I’m afraid that’s too good to be true.”

“Which one of the Hindus?” I asked.

“Oh, the Thug, of course.”

I sat bolt upright.

“The Thug?” I echoed.

“Didn’t you get that far?” and Godfrey picked up one of the books and ran rapidly through the pages.  “You remember we found him squatting on the floor with a rag and a tooth and a bone in front of him?”

“Yes.”

“And do you remember how the yogi described them, when Goldberger asked him about them?”

“Very distinctly—­he called them the attributes of Kali.”