d back the curtain at the farther
end.

I was just behind Goldberger and Simmonds, and I heard their gasp of
amazement, as they saw what lay beyond.

The scene had not changed in the slightest detail. The crystal sphere
still softly glowed, with intangible shadows flitting across its
surface; the adept still sat cross-legged staring into its depths;
opposite him, the cobra, its hood distended, swayed slowly to and fro.

But as we stood there staring, a single delicate ray of sunlight
coming through a pin-hole in the curtained window, struck the sphere
and seemed to extinguish it. The glow within it flickered and
fluttered and finally vanished, and it hung there dull and grey. An
instant later, the motionless figure raised its arms high in air, with
a motion somehow familiar; then it got slowly to its feet, crossed to
the window, drew back the curtain and flung wide the shutter.

The sun was just peeping over the trees to the east, and for a second
its light blinded me. Then I saw the adept bowing low before it, his
arms still extended. Once, twice, thrice he bowed, as before a deity,
while we stood there staring. Then he turned slowly toward us.

"Enter, friends," he said calmly. "The peace of the Holy One be on
you, and his love within your hearts!"

CHAPTER X

THE WHITE PRIEST OF SIVA

The adept was an impressive figure, as he stood there with the sun
behind him, throwing a yellow nimbus around his head. The robe he wore
was of a rich purple, and gave an added effect of height and dignity
to a figure already tall. His hair was dark and crinkled like
wind-swept water, his complexion dark, but with an under-blush of red
in the cheeks. His lips were scarlet and his eyes coal-black and of an
arresting brilliance. The whole effect he gave was of transcendent
energy and magnetism, nor did he show the slightest fatigue from his
long vigil.

His eyes swept our faces, as we stood crowded there in the doorway. He
did not seem surprised. If there was any expression in his face except
courteous inquiry, it was one of carefully suppressed amusement.

"Enter, friends," he repeated. "What is it you desire?"

His voice was rich and deep, and he spoke with a peculiar intonation,
but without accent. It was something of a shock to hear the ordinary
words of English speech coming from his lips, for they seemed formed
to utter prophecies in unknown tongues.

Goldberger took one step into the room, and then stopped a