IV

A curious rattling sound made them turn sharply the next moment, and

even though it proved to be the warning signal of an old snake-charmer,

Beryl welcomed the diversion. She looked at the man with a good deal of

interest, notwithstanding her repulsion. He was wrapped in a long, very

dirty, white _chuddah_, from which his face peered weirdly forth,

wrinkled and old, almost supernaturally old, she thought to herself. It

was very strangely adorned with red paint, which imparted to the eyes a

ghastly pale appearance in the midst of the swarthy skin. A wiry grey

beard covered the lower part of the face, and into this he was crooning

a tuneless 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, an impression

of some stringed instrument thrumming somewhere at the back of the

crowd.

It all ended as unexpectedly as it had begun. The great reptile became

suddenly inert, a lifeless thing; the monotonous crooning was resumed,

proceeding as it were out of the chaos of the struggle, and round his

neck and about his body the snake-charmer wound his vanquished foe.

The moment for _backsheesh_ had arrived, and Beryl, coming suddenly out

of her absorption, felt for her purse and awoke abruptly to the

consciousness of a hand that gripped her arm.

She glanced at Fletcher, who at once slackened his hold. "Don't you give

the fellow anything," he said, with a touch of peremptoriness, "I will."

She yielded, considering the matter too trivial for argument, and

watched his rupee fall with a tinkle upon the tin plate which the

snake-charmer extended at the length of his sinewy arm.

Fletcher speedily made a way for her through the now shifting crowd; and

after a little they found the _saice_, waiting with the mare under a

tree. The animal was tormented by flies and restless. Certainly in this

valley district it was very hot.

"We will go back by the hill road," Fletcher said, as he handed her up.

"It is rather longer, but I think it is worth it. This blaze is too much

for you."

They left the thronged highroad, and turned up a rutty track leading

directly into the hills.

Their way lay between great, glaring boulders of naked rock. Here and

there tufts of grass grew beside the stony track, but they were brown

and scorched, and served only to emphasise the barrenness of the land.

For a while they drove in silence, mounting steadily the whole time.

Suddenly Fletcher spoke. "We shall come to some shade directly. There is

a belt of pine trees round the next curve."

The words were hardly uttered when unexpectedly the mare shied, struck

the ground violently with all four feet together, and bolted.

Beryl heard an exclamation from the native groom, and half-turned to see

him clinging to the back with a face of terror. She herself was more

astonished than frightened. She gripped the rail instinctively, for the

cart was jolting horribly as the mare, stretched out like a greyhound,

fled at full gallop along the stony way.

She saw Fletcher, with his feet against the board, dragging backwards

with all his strength. He was quite white, but exceedingly collected,

and she was instantly quite certain that he knew what he was about.

There followed a few breathless moments of headlong galloping, during

which they swayed perilously from side to side, and were many times on

the verge of being overturned. Then, the ground rising steeply, the

mare's wild pace became modified, developed into a spasmodic canter,

became a difficult trot, finally slowed to a walk.

Fletcher pulled up altogether, and turned to the silent woman beside

him. "Mrs. Denvers, you are splendid!" he said simply.

She laughed rather tremulously. The tension over, she was feeling very

weak.

The _saice_ was already at the mare's head, and Fletcher let the reins

go. He dismounted without another word and went round to her side. Still

silent, he held up his hands to her and lifted her down as though she

had been a child. He was smiling a little, but he was still very pale.

As for Beryl, the moment her feet touched the ground she felt as if the

whole world had turned to liquid and were swimming around her in a

gigantic whirlpool of floating impressions.

"Ah, you are faint!" she heard him say.

And she made a desperate and quite futile effort to assure him that she

was nothing of the sort. But she knew that no more than a blur of sound

came from her lips, and even while she strove to make herself

intelligible the floating world became a dream, and darkness fell upon

her.

V

Gradually, very gradually, the mists cleared from Beryl's brain, and she

opened her eyes dreamily, and stared about her with a feeling that she

had been asleep for years. She was lying propped upon carriage-cushions

in the shade of an immense boulder, and as she discovered this fact,

memory flashed swiftly back upon her. She had fainted, of course, in her

foolish, weak, womanly fashion. But where was Major Fletcher? The heat

was intense, so intense that breathing in that prone position seemed

impossible. Gasping, she raised herself. Surely she was not absolutely

alone in this arid wilderness!

She was not. In an instant she realised this, and wonder rather than

fear possessed her.

There, squatting on his haunches, not ten paces from her, was the old

snake-charmer. His basket was by his side; his _chuddah_ drooped low

over his face; he sat quite motionless, save for a certain palsied

quivering, which she had observed before. He looked as if he had been in

that place and attitude for many years.

Beryl leaned her head upon her hand and closed her eyes. She was feeling

spent and sick. He did not inspire her with horror, this old man. She

was conscious of a faint sensation of disgust, that was all.

A few seconds later she looked up again, wondering afresh whither her

escort could have betaken himself. It seemed to her that the distance

between herself and the old native had dwindled somewhat, but she did

not bestow much attention upon him. She merely noted how fiercely the

sun beat down upon his shrouded head, and wondered how he managed to

endure it.

The next time she opened her eyes, there were scarcely three yards

between them. The instant her look fell upon him he began to speak in a

thin, wiry voice of great humility.

"Let the gracious lady pardon her servant," he said, in perfect English.

"He would not harm a hair of her head."

She raised herself to an upright position with an effort. Very curiously

she did not feel in the least afraid. By an abrupt intuition, wholly

inexplicable, she knew that the man had something to tell her.

"What is it?" she said.

He cringed before her.

"Let my gracious lady have patience. It is no boon that her servant

would desire of her. He would only speak a word of warning in the

_mem-sahib's_ ear."

Beryl had begun to give him her full attention. She had a feeling that

she had seen the man somewhere before, but where and under what

circumstances she could not recall. It was no moment for retrospection

and the phantom eluded her.

"What is it?" she said again, studying him with knitted brows.

He bowed himself before her till he appeared to be no more than a bundle

of dirty linen.

"Let the gracious lady be warned by her servant," he said. "Fletcher

_sahib_ is a man of evil heart."

Beryl's eyes widened. Assuredly this was the last thing she had expected

to hear from such a source.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

He grovelled before her, his head almost in the dust.

"_Mem-sahib_ he has gone for water, but he will soon return. And he will

lie to the gracious lady, and tell her that the shaft of the carriage is

broken so that he cannot take her back. But it is not so, most gracious.

The shaft is cracked, indeed, but it is not beyond repair. Moreover, it

was cracked by the _saice_ at his master's bidding, while the

_mem-sahib_ was at the fair."

He paused; but Beryl said nothing. She was listening to the whole story

in speechless, unfeigned astonishment.

"Also," her informant proceeded, "the _sahib's_ mare was frightened, not

by an accident, but by a trick. It was the _sahib's_ will that she

should run away. And he chose this road so that he might be far from

habitation, well knowing that for every mile on the lower road there are

two miles to be travelled on this. _Mem-sahib_, your servant has spoken,

and he prays you to beware. There is danger in your path."

"But--but," gasped Beryl, "how do you know all this? What makes you tell

me? You can't know what you are saying!"

She was thoroughly frightened by this time, and heat and faintness were

alike forgotten. Incredible as was the story to which she had listened,

there was about it a vividness that made it terrifying.

"But I don't understand," she said helplessly, as the snake-charmer

remained silent to her questions. "It is not possible! It could not be!"

He lifted his head a little and, from the depths of the _chuddah_, she

knew that piercing eyes surveyed her.

"_Mem-sahib_," he said, "your servant knew that this would happen, and

he came here swiftly by a secret way to warn you. More, he knows that

when Fletcher _sahib_ returns, he will speak lightly of the accident, so

that the _mem-sahib_ will have no fear. 'A broken shaft is soon mended,'

he will say. 'My servant has returned to Farabad--to a man he knows. We

will rest under the trees but a furlong from this place till he comes

back.' But, most gracious, he will not come back. There is no place at

Farabad at this time of the fair where the work could be done. Moreover,

the _saice_ has his orders, and he will not seek one. He will go back to

Kundaghat with the mare, but he will walk all the way. It is fifteen

miles from here by the road. He will not reach it ere nightfall. He will

not return till after the darkness falls, and then he will miss the

road. He will not find Fletcher _sahib_ and the gracious lady before the

sunrise."

Thus, in brief but telling sentences, the old native revealed to the

white-faced woman before him the whole abominable plot. She listened to

him in a growing agony of doubt. Could it be? Was it by any means

possible that Fletcher, desiring to win her, but despairing of lessening

the distance she maintained between them by any ordinary method, had

devised this foul scheme of compromising her in the eyes of society in

order to force her to accept him?

Her cheeks burned furiously at the intolerable suspicion. It made her

wholly forget that the man before her was an evil-looking native of whom

she knew nothing whatever.

With sudden impulse she turned and bestowed her full confidence upon

him, the paint-smeared face and mumbling beard notwithstanding.

"You must help me," she said imperiously. "You have done so much. You

must do more. Tell me how I am to get back to Kundaghat."

He made a deferential gesture.

"The _mem-sahib_ cannot depart before the major _sahib_ returns," he

said. "Let her therefore be faint once more, and let him minister to

her. Let her hear his story, and judge if her servant has spoken truly.

Then let the gracious lady go with him into the shade of the pine trees

on the hill. When she is there let her discover that she has left behind

her some treasure that she values--such as the golden bangle that is on

the _mem-sahib's_ wrist. Let her show distress, and Fletcher _sahib_

shall come back to seek it. Then let her listen for the scream of a jay,

and rise up and follow it. It will lead her by a safe and speedy way to

Kundaghat. It will be easy for the _mem-sahib_ to say afterwards that

she began to wander and lost her way, till at last she met an aged man

who guided her."

Yes, quite easy. She assimilated this subtle suggestion, for the first

time in her life welcoming craft. Of the extreme risk of the undertaking

she was too agitated to think. To get away was her one all-possessing

desire.

While she thus desperately reviewed the situation, the snake-charmer

began, with much grunting and mowing, to gather himself together for

departure. She watched him, feeling that she would have gladly detained

him had that been possible. Slowly, with palsied movements, he at length

arose and took up his basket, doubled himself up before her with an

almost ludicrous excess of deference, and finally hobbled away.