“Craig!” Lenora whispered.  “He thinks he sees Craig again!”

Quest held up his hand.  He realised that this was his moment.  He leaned a little farther forward.  Sternly he concentrated the whole of his will power upon his task.  Almost at once there was a change.  The Professor fell back in the chair.  The tense self-control had passed from his features, his lips twitched.  Simultaneously, the mirror for a moment was clouded,—­then slowly a picture upon it gathered outline and substance.  There was a jungle, strange, tall trees, and brushwood so thick that it reached to the waists of the two men who were slowly making their way through it.  One was the Professor, clearly recognisable under his white sun helmet; the other a stranger to all of them.  Suddenly they stopped.  The latter had crept a yard or so ahead, his gun raised to his shoulder, his eyes fixed upon some possible object of pursuit.  There was a sudden change in the Professor.  They saw him seize his gun by the barrel and whirl it above his head.  He seemed suddenly to lose his whole identity.  He crouched on his haunches, almost like an animal, and sprang at the other’s throat.  They could almost hear the snarl from his lips as the two men went down together into the undergrowth.  The picture faded away.

“Dr. Merrill!” Lenora faltered.  “Then it was not wild beasts which killed him.”

Almost immediately figures again appeared in the mirror.  This time they saw the Professor in bed in a tent, Craig sitting by him, a violin in his hand.  A native servant entered with food, which he placed by the bedside with a low obeisance.  Slowly the Professor raised himself in bed.  His face was distorted, his mouth curved into strange lines.  With a sudden spring he seized the native servant by the throat and bore him back upon the floor.  Craig passed his arm through his master’s and, exerting all his strength, dragged him away.  They saw the man run terrified from the room, they saw Craig soothe the Professor and finally get him back to bed.  Then he seized the violin and bent a little forward, playing softly.  Slowly the Professor relapsed into what seemed to be a sleep.  The scene faded away, to be replaced almost immediately by another.  There was a small passage which seemed to lead from the back entrance of a house; the Professor with a black mantle, Craig following him, pleading, expostulating.  They saw the conservatory for a minute, and then blackness.  The Professor was leaning against a marble basin.  There was nothing to be seen of him but his eyes and hands.  They saw him listen, for a moment or two in cold, unresponsive silence, then stretch out his hand and push Craig away.  The picture glowed and faded and glowed again.  Then they saw through the gloom the figure of a woman approach, a diamond necklace around her neck.  They saw the hands steal out and encircle her throat—­and then more darkness, silence, obscurity.  The mirror was empty once more.