Equally suddenly the whole top surface of the stone table became bathed in light of a different quality--light like daylight, that perhaps came upward from the stone, but if so came only a little way.

To me it looked much more as if it began suddenly in mid-air and descended toward the surface of the stone.
And there all at once, as clearly as if we saw it on the focusing screen of a gigantic camera, lay Benares spread before us, with all its color, its sacred cattle in the streets, its crowds bathing in the Ganges, temples, domes, trees, movement--almost the smell of Benares was there, for the suggestion was all-inclusive.
"But why is it daylight in Benares while it's somewhere near midnight here ?" King demanded.
That instant the sunshine in Benares ceased and the moon and stars came out.

The glow of lamps shone forth from the temple courtyards, and down by the river ghats were the lurid crimson flame and smoke where they cremated dead Hindus.

It was far more perfect than a motion picture.
Allowing for scale it looked actually real.
Suddenly the chamber was all suffused in golden light once more and the picture on the granite table vanished.
"Name another city," said the Gray Mahatma.
"London," King answered.
The light went out, and there sure enough was London--first the Strand, crowded with motor-busses; then Ludgate Hill and St.Paul's; then the Royal Exchange and Bank of England; then London Bridge and the Tower Bridge and a panorama of the Thames.
"Are you satisfied ?" the Gray Mahatma asked, and once again the cavern was flooded with that peculiarly restful golden light, while the picture on the granite table disappeared.
"Not a bit," King answered.

"It's a trick of some sort." "Is wireless telegraphy a trick then ?" retorted the Mahatma.