"Mr. Vaughan was a mystic."
"A what?"
"A mystic--a believer in Hinduism or some other Oriental religion."
"Did he dress this way all the time?"
"I believe so. It is probably the dress of his order."
Goldberger rolled the robe up carefully, and said nothing more; but I
could see from his expression that he had ceased to wonder why Vaughan
had come to a strange and violent end. Surely anything might happen to
a mystic! Then he placed the blood-stained handkerchief in another
envelope, and finally put his hand in his pocket and brought out half
a dozen cigars.
"Now," he said, "let's sit down and rest awhile. Simmonds tells me it
was you who called him, Mr. Godfrey. How did you happen to discover
the crime?"
The question was asked carelessly, but I could feel the alert mind
behind it. I knew that Godfrey felt it, too, from the way in which he
told the story, for he told it carefully, and yet with an air of
keeping nothing back.
Of the mysterious light he said nothing, but, starting with my finding
of the letter and summoning Swain to receive it, told of the
arrangements for the rendezvous, dwelling upon it lightly, as a
love-affair which could have no connection with the tragedy.
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