The Gloved Hand Read online

  CHAPTER XII

  GUESSES AT THE RIDDLE

  We tried to follow Dr. Hinman's prescription, but not with any greatsuccess, for it is difficult to talk about one thing and think aboutanother. So the doctor took himself off, before long, and Swainannounced that he himself would have to return to the city. He hadcome out without so much as a tooth-brush, he pointed out; histrousers were in a lamentable condition, and, while Godfrey's coat waswelcome, it was far from a perfect fit.

  "Which reminds me," he added, "that I don't know what has become of myown coat and shirt."

  I looked at Godfrey quickly.

  "No, I forgot them," he said. "They're over in the library atElmhurst," he added to Swain. "You can get them to-morrow."

  "I shall have to be there to-morrow, then?"

  "Yes, at the inquest; I've promised to produce you there," I said.

  "At what time?"

  "You'd better be there by ten."

  "Very well; that's all the more reason for getting back to my base ofsupplies. If I went on the stand looking like this, the jury wouldprobably think I was the murderer!" he added, laughing.

  My answering smile was decidedly thin. Godfrey did not even try toforce one.

  "Wait a few minutes," he suggested, "and I'll take you down in my car.I'll try to get back early, Lester," he added, apologetically. "I'mfar from an ideal host--but you'll find some books on my desk that mayinterest you--I got them up to-day. Take a look at them after dinner."

  He went back to bring out his car, and Swain sat down again beside me.

  "Mr. Lester," he said, in a low voice, "I hope you haven't forgottenyour promise."

  "What promise?"

  "To put Miss Vaughan in a safe place and to look after her interests."

  "No," I said, "I haven't forgotten. I am going to ask to see her afterthe inquest to-morrow. If she wishes us to represent her, we will."

  "And to protect her," he added, quickly. "She hasn't even a mad fathernow!"

  "She's safe enough for the present," I pointed out. "Dr. Hinman hasemployed another nurse, so that one is with her all the time."

  "I won't be satisfied," said Swain, "till you get her out of thathouse and away from those damned Hindus. One nurse, or even two,wouldn't stop them."

  "Stop them from what?"

  "I don't know," and he twisted his fingers helplessly.

  "Well, the police will stop them. There are three or four men on dutythere, with orders to let no one in or out."

  His face brightened.

  "Ah, that's better," he said. "I didn't know that. How long will theybe there?"

  "Till after the inquest, anyway."

  "And you will see Miss Vaughan after the inquest?"

  "Yes."

  "And urge her to go to Mr. and Mrs. Royce?"

  "Yes--but I don't think she'll need much urging. I'll get a note fromMrs. Royce. I'll telephone to Mr. Royce now, and you can stop and getthe note as you come up in the morning."

  Godfrey's car glided up the drive and stopped at the porch. Swain heldout his hand and clasped mine warmly.

  "Thank you, Mr. Lester," he said; and a moment later the car turnedinto the highway and passed from sight.

  Then I went in, got Mr. Royce on the 'phone, and give him a briefoutline of the incidents of the night before. He listened with anexclamation of astonishment from time to time, and assented heartilywhen I suggested that Miss Vaughan might be placed in Mrs. Royce'scare temporarily.

  "She's a beautiful girl," I concluded, "and very young. I agree withSwain that she mustn't be left alone in that house."

  "Certainly she mustn't," said my partner. "I'll have Mrs. Royce writethe note, and get a room ready for her."

  "Of course," I said, "it's possible she won't come--though I believeshe'll be glad to. Or there may be a family lawyer who will want tolook after her. Only she didn't appear to know of any when she wastalking to Swain."

  "Well, bring her along if you can," said Mr. Royce. "We'll be glad tohave her. And take your time about coming back, if you're needed upthere. We're getting along all right."

  I thanked him, and hung up; and presently Mrs. Hargis came to summonme to dinner. That meal over, I went in to Godfrey's desk to see whatthe books were he had suggested that I look at. There was quite a pileof them, and I saw that they all related to mysticism or to thereligions of India. There was Sir Monier Williams's "Brahmanism andHinduism," Hopkins's "The Religions of India," a work oncrystallomancy, Mr. Lloyd Tuckey's standard work on "Hypnotism andSuggestion," and some half dozen others whose titles I have forgotten.And as I looked at them, I began to understand one reason forGodfrey's success as a solver of mysteries--no detail of a subjectever escaped him.

  I lit my pipe, sat down, and was soon deep in the lore of the East. Imust confess that I did not make much of it. In that maze ofsuperstition, the most I could do was to pick up a thread here andthere. The yogi had referred to the White Night of Siva, and I soonfound out that Siva is one of the gods of Hinduism--one of a greattrilogy: Brahma the creator, Vishnu the preserver, and Siva thedestroyer. He had also spoken of the attributes of Kali, and, after alittle further search, I discovered that Kali was Siva's wife--a mostunprepossessing and fiendish female.

  But when I passed on to Hinduism itself, and tried to understand itstenets and its sects, I soon found myself out of my depth. They wereso jumbled, so multitudinous, and so diverse that I could get no clearidea of them. I read of the Vedas, the Upanishads, the Brahmanas; ofmetaphysical abstractions too tenuous to grasp; of karna or action,of maya or illusion, and I know not what "tangled jumble of ghosts anddemons, demi-gods, and deified saints, household gods, village gods,tribal gods, universal gods, with their countless shrines and templesand din of discordant rites." At last, in despair, I gave it up, andturned to the book on crystallomancy.

  Here, at least, was something comprehensible, if not altogetherbelievable, and I read with interest of the antiquity ofcrystal-gazing as a means of inducing hallucination for the purpose ofseeking information not to be gained by any normal means. I read ofits use in China, in Assyria, in Egypt, in Arabia, in India, in Greeceand Rome; of how its practitioners in the Middle Ages were looked uponas heretics and burnt at the stake or broken on the wheel; of thefamous Dr. Dee, and so down to the present time. The scryers or seerssometimes used mirrors, sometimes vessels filled with water, butusually a polished stone, and beryl was especially esteemed.

  The effect of gazing at these intently for a time was to abstract themind from normal sensory impressions, and to induce a state of partialhypnosis during which the scryer claimed he could perceive in thecrystal 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 dooropened, 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. "Thecrystal-gazing isn't so bad--one can understand that; but the jumbleof abstractions which the Hindus call religion is too much for me. Ididn't know it was so late," I added, and looked at my watch; but itwas not yet eleven o'clock.

  "I'm earlier than usual," said Godfrey. "I cut loose as soon as Icould, because I thought we'd better talk things over. I saw Simmondsin town to-night."

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

  "Nothing I didn't know already. The police have discovered nothingnew--or, if they have, they're keeping it dark until to-morrow.Simmonds did, however, regale me with his theory of the case. He saysthe 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 theemphasis on the Hindus," he added, seeing the look on my face, "Idon't believe Swain had any hand in it."

  "Neither do I," I agreed, heartily. "In fact, such a theory is tooabsurd to discuss."

  "Just the same," said G
odfrey, slowly, "I'm glad he didn't touchVaughan. If he had happened to seize him by the neck, while they werestruggling together,--in other words, if those finger-printsGoldberger found had happened to be Swain's--things would have lookedbad for him. I'm hoping they'll turn out to belong to one of theHindus--but, as I said to Goldberger, I'm afraid that's too good to betrue."

  "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 andran rapidly through the pages. "You remember we found him squatting onthe 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 Goldbergerasked him about them?"

  "Very distinctly--he called them the attributes of Kali."

  "Now listen to this: 'The Thugs are a religious fraternity, committingmurders in honor of Kali, the wife of Siva, who, they believe, assiststhem and protects them. Legend asserts that she presented herworshippers with three things, the hem of her lower garment to use asa noose, a rib to use as a knife, and a tooth to use as a pick-axe inburying the victims.'" He glanced at me, and then went on: "'But theknife was little used, for the religious character of an assassinationcame to depend more and more upon its bloodless character, and forthis a noose was used, with which the victim was strangled. Theaversion to bloodshed became in time so great that many sects ofThuggee consider it defiling to touch human blood!'" He closed thebook and threw it on the table. "Don't you think that proves thecase?"

  "Yes," I said, thoughtfully. "And the yogi--is he also a Thug?"

  "Oh, no; a White Priest of Siva could never be a Thug. The worship ofSiva and of Kali are the very opposites of each other. The Saivas areascetics. That is," he added, in another tone, "if the fellow isreally a Saiva and not just a plain fraud."

  "All these fellows are frauds, more or less, aren't they?" Iquestioned.

  "No," was Godfrey's unexpected answer; "the real yogin are no doubtsincere; but a real yogi wouldn't waste his time on a soft-brained oldman, and fire sky-rockets off at midnight to impress him. My ownopinion is that this fellow is a fakir--a juggler, a sleight-of-handman--and, of course, a crook."

  "Well?" I asked, as Godfrey stopped and failed to continue.

  "Well, that's as far as I've got. Oh, yes--there's Toto. A cobra isone of a fakir's stock properties."

  "But, Godfrey," I protested, "he is no ignorant roadside juggler. He'sa cultivated man--an unusual man."

  "Certainly he is--most unusual. But that doesn't disprove my guess; itonly makes the problem harder. Even a roadside juggler doesn't do histricks for nothing--what reward is it this fellow's working for? Itmust be a big one, or it wouldn't tempt him."

  "I suppose Vaughan paid him well," I ventured.

  "Yes; but did you look at him, Lester? You've called him unusual, butthat word doesn't begin to express him. He's extraordinary. No doubtVaughan _did_ pay him well, but it would take something more than thatto persuade such a man to spend six months in a place like that. And Ithink I can guess at the stake he's playing for."

  "You mean Miss Vaughan?"

  "Just that," and Godfrey leaned back in his chair.

  I contemplated this theory for some moments in silence. It was, atleast, a theory and an interesting one--but it rested on air. Therewas no sort of foundation for it that I could see, and at last I saidso.

  "I know it's pretty thin," Godfrey admitted, "but it's the best I'vebeen able to do--there's so little to build a theory out of. But I'mgoing to see if I can't prove one part of it true to-night."

  "Which part?"

  "About his being a fakir. Here's my theory: that hocus-pocus on theroof at midnight was for the purpose of impressing Vaughan. No doubthe believed it a real spiritual manifestation, whereas it was only aclever bit of jugglery. Now that Vaughan is dead, that particular bitof jugglery will cease until there is some new victim to impress. Infact, it has ceased already. There was no star last night."

  "But you know why," I pointed out. "The yogi spent the night incontemplation. We can bear witness to that."

  "We can't bear witness to when he started in," said Godfrey, drily."We didn't see him till after half-past twelve. However, accepting hisexplanation, there would be no reason for omitting the phenomenonto-night, if it's a genuine one."

  "No," I agreed.

  "And if it _is_ omitted," Godfrey went on, "it will be prettyconclusive evidence that it isn't genuine. Although," he went onhurriedly, "I don't need any proof of that--anything else would beunbelievable." He glanced at his watch. "It's ten minutes to twelve,"he said. "Come along."

  I followed him out of the house and through the grove with very mixedsensations. If the star _didn't_ fall, it would tend to prove that itwas, as Godfrey had said, merely a fake arranged to impress acredulous old man; but suppose it _did_ fall! That was a part of thetest concerning which Godfrey had said nothing. Suppose it _did_ fall!What then?

  So it was in silence that I followed Godfrey up the ladder and took myplace on the limb. But Godfrey seemed to have no uneasiness.

  "We won't have long to wait," he said. "We'll wait till five minutesafter twelve, just to make sure. It must be twelve now. I wish I couldpersuade that fellow to show me how the fake was worked, for it wascertainly a good one--one of the best...."

  He stopped abruptly, staring out into the darkness. I was staring,too, for there, against the sky, a light began to glow and brighten.It hung for a moment motionless, and then began slowly to descend,steadily, deliberately, as of set purpose. Lower and lower it sank, ina straight line, hovered for an instant, and burst into a millionsparks.

  In the flare of light, a white-robed figure stood, gazing upwards, itsarms strained toward the sky.

  As we went silently down the ladder, a moment later, it seemed to methat I could hear Godfrey's theory crashing about his ears.