s and wholly unintelligible song, while he squatted on the
ground in front of a large, covered basket.

"He has got a cobra there," Fletcher said, and took Beryl's arm quietly.

She moved slightly, with a latent wish that he would take his hand away.
But natives were beginning to crowd and press about them to see the
show, and she realised that his action was dictated by necessity.

"Shall I take you away before we get hemmed in?" he asked her once.

But she shook her head. A nameless fascination impelled her to remain.

Even when the snake-charmer shot forth a dusky arm and clawed the basket
open, she showed no sign of fear, though Fletcher's hold upon her
tightened to a grip. They seemed to be the only Europeans in all that
throng, but that fact also she had forgotten. She could think of nothing
but the crouching native before her, and the basket in which some
living, moving thing lay enshrouded.

Closely she watched the active fingers, alert and sensitive, feeling
over the dingy cloth they had exposed. Suddenly, with a movement too
swift to be followed, they rent the covering away, and on the instant,
rearing upwards, she beheld a huge snake.

A thrill of horror shot through her, so keen that it stabbed every
pulse, making her whole body tingle. But there was no escape for her
then, nor did she seek it. She had a most unaccountable feeling that
this display was for her alone, that in some way it appealed to her
individually; and she was no longer so much as conscious of Fletcher's
presence at her side.

The charmer continued his crooning noise, and the great cobra swayed its
inflated neck to and fro as though to some mysterious rhythm, the native
with naked hand and arm seeming to direct it.

"Loathsome!" murmured a voice into Beryl's ear, but she did not hear it.
Her whole intelligence was riveted upon the movements of the serpent and
its master. It was a hideous spectacle, but it occupied her undivided
attention. She had no room for panic.

Suddenly the man's crooning ceased, and on the instant the cobra ceased
to sway. It seemed to gather itself together, was rigid for perhaps five
seconds, and then--swift as a lightning flash--it struck.

A sharp cry broke from Beryl, but she never knew that she uttered it.
All she was aware of was the ghastly struggle that ensued in front of
her, the fierce writhing of the snake, the convulsive movements of the
old native, and, curiously distinct from everything else,