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.
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