“The serpent is deadly. Many time Ranjab have take the poison from its fangs and it becomes his slave. He would have take the poison from the serpent in his master's house, but the serpent change before his eye and he become the slave. She speak to him on the voice of the wind and he obey. It is the law. Kismet! His master have of wives two. Two, _sahib_, the living and the dead. They speak with Ranjab to-day and he obey.” There was dead silence in the room for many minutes after the remarkable utterances of the mystic. Master and man looked into each other's eyes and spoke no more, yet something passed between them. “The _sahibah_ has sent Roberts for a priest,” said the Hindu at last. “A priest? But I am not a Catholic--nor Frederic.” “Madam is. The servants are saying that the priest will be here too late. They are wondering why you have not already killed me, _sahib_.” “Kill you, _too?_” “They are now saying that the last stroke of the gong, _sahib_, was the death-sentence for Ranjab. It called me here to be slain by you. I have told them all that I fired the------” “Go down at once, my friend,” said Brood, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. “Let them see that I do not blame you, even though we permit them to believe this lie of ours. Go, my friend!” The man bent his head and turned away. Near the door he stopped stock-still and listened intently. “The _sahibah_ comes.” “Aye, she said she would come to me here,” said Brood, and his jaw hardened. “Hodder--sent for me, Ranjab, an hour ago, but--but he was conscious then. His eyes were open. I--I could not look into them. There would have been hatred in them--hatred for me, and I--I could not go. I was a coward. Yes, a coward, after all. She would have been there to watch me as I cringed. I was afraid of what I might do to her then.” “He is not conscious now, _sahib_” said the Hindu slowly. “Still,” said the other, compressing his lips, “I am afraid--I am afraid. Ranjab, you do not know what it means to be a coward! You------” “And yet, _sahib_, you are brave enough to stand on the spot where he fell, where his blood flowed, and that is not what a coward would do.” The door opened and closed swiftly and he was gone. Brood allowed his dull, wondering gaze to sink to his feet. He was standing on the spot where Frederic had fallen. There was no blood there now. The rug had been removed, and before his own eyes the swift-moving Hindu had washed the floor and table and put the room in order. All this seemed ages ago. Since that time he had bared his soul to the smirking Buddha, and receiving no consolation from the smug image, had violently cursed the thing.