Bathurst took it in his hand. “It looks like a bit sawn off a telegraph pole,” he said. “Will you come outside, sahib?” The night was very dark, but the lamp on the table threw its light through the window onto the drive in front of the veranda. Rujub took with him a piece of wood about nine inches square, with a soft pad on the top. He went out in the drive and placed the piece of pole upright, and laid the wood with the cushion on the top. “Now will you stand in the veranda a while?” Bathurst stood back by the side of the window so as not to interfere with the passage of the light. Rabda stole forward and sat down upon the cushion. “Now watch, sahib.” Bathurst looked, and saw the block of wood apparently growing. Gradually it rose until Rabda passed up beyond the light in the room. “You may come out,” the juggler said, “but do not touch the pole. If you do, it will cause a fall, which would be fatal to my child.” Bathurst stepped out and looked up. He could but just make out the figure of Rabda, seemingly already higher than the top of the bungalow. Gradually it became more and more indistinct. “You are there, Rabda?” her father said. “I am here, father!” and the voice seemed to come from a considerable distance. Again and again the question was asked, and the answer became fainter and fainter, although it sounded as if it was a distant cry in response to Rujub’s shout rather than spoken in an ordinary voice. At last no response was heard. “Now it shall descend,” the juggler said. Two or three minutes passed, and then Bathurst, who was staring up into the darkness, could make out the end of the pole with the seat upon it, but Rabda was no longer there. Rapidly it sank, until it stood its original height on the ground. “Where is Rabda?” Bathurst exclaimed. “She is here, my lord,” and as he spoke Rabda rose from a sitting position on the balcony close to Bathurst. “It is marvelous!” the latter exclaimed. “I have heard of that feat before, but have never seen it. May I take up that piece of wood?” “Assuredly, sahib.” Bathurst took it up and carried it to the light. It was undoubtedly, as he had before supposed, a piece of solid wood. The juggler had not touched it, or he would have supposed he might have substituted for the piece he first examined a sort of telescope of thin sheets of steel, but even that would not have accounted for Rabda’s disappearance. “I will show you one other feat, my lord.” He took a brass dish, placed a few pieces of wood and charcoal in it, struck a match, and set the wood on fire, and then fanned it until the wood had burned out, and the charcoal was in a glow; then he sprinkled some powder upon it, and a dense white smoke rose. “Now turn out the lamp, sahib.” Bathurst did so. The glow of the charcoal enabled him still to see the light smoke; this seemed to him to become clearer and clearer.