osed the opening behind them. They found themselves
in a dirty little tent, ill-lit by two smoking lamps; a dozen stools were
placed in a circle on the bare ground. In one corner sat a fellah woman,
motionless, in ample robes of dingy black. Her face was hidden by a long
veil, which was held in place by a queer ornament of brass in the middle
of the forehead, between the eyes. These alone were visible, large and
sombre, and the lashes were darkened with kohl: her fingers were brightly
stained with henna. She moved slightly as the visitors entered, and the
man gave her his drum. She began to rub it with her hands, curiously, and
made a droning sound, which was odd and mysterious. There was a peculiar
odour in the place, so that Dr Porhoet was for a moment transported to
the evil-smelling streets of Cairo. It was an acrid mixture of incense,
of attar of roses, with every imaginable putrescence. It choked the two
women, and Susie asked for a cigarette. The native grinned when he heard
the English tongue. He showed a row of sparkling and beautiful teeth.

'My name Mohammed,' he said. 'Me show serpents to Sirdar Lord Kitchener.
Wait and see. Serpents very poisonous.'

He was dressed in a long blue gabardine, more suited to the sunny banks
of the Nile than to a fair in Paris, and its colour could hardly be seen
for dirt. On his head was the national tarboosh.

A rug lay at one side of the tent, and from under it he took a goatskin
sack. He placed it on the ground in the middle of the circle formed by
the seats and crouched down on his haunches. Margaret shuddered, for the
uneven surface of the sack moved strangely. He opened the mouth of it.
The woman in the corner listlessly droned away on the drum, and
occasionally uttered a barbaric cry. With a leer and a flash of his
bright teeth, the Arab thrust his hand into the sack and rummaged as a
man would rummage in a sack of corn. He drew out a long, writhing snake.
He placed it on the ground and for a moment waited, then he passed his
hand over it: it became immediately as rigid as a bar of iron. Except
that the eyes, the cruel eyes, were open still, there might have been no
life in it.

'Look,' said Haddo. 'That is the miracle which Moses did before Pharaoh.'

Then the Arab took a reed instrument, not unlike the pipe which Pan
in the hills of Greece played to the dryads, and he piped a weird,
monotonous tune. The stiffness broke away from the snake suddenly, and
it lifted i