I saw that hateful muddy colour spread over Mr. Scarlett’s face and his eyes narrow with fear. He turned to me, hardly able to speak. "For God’s sake, sir, give up the wretched thing," he stuttered. "Tell me where it is and I will give it him. I don’t want any of his money; all I want is to be quit of it." "When you’ve got your money, not before," I said. "But, sir, remember we are not in England. He swears he’ll kill you; that if you land he will kill you; if you don’t he’ll find other ways of killing you. He won’t touch me, because I gave his wife that drink of water. But, sir, it’s different with you." "I gave his son water a month ago," I said, with a sudden inspiration. Mr. Scarlett was too much agitated to enquire when or where. He turned to Jassim and asked him something. Jassim replied bitterly. "He says you shot him, and he died; the drink of water made no difference. You don’t know these people out here," he implored. "Don’t run any risk. I don’t want the money, indeed I don’t." Jassim had risen to his feet and stood not three feet from me, glaring at me as if he would willingly kill me then and there. I saw in his eyes that what Mr. Scarlett had said was true. I don’t know what made me do it—I certainly never thought, and regretted it immediately afterwards—but I suddenly locked my arms round him, and before he could make a move I had tripped him over the railings and dropped him overboard. The boat which had brought him off was close there, and he scrambled on board like a drowned rat, sat down in the stern-sheets, folded his clinging wet burnous round him, and, without deigning to turn his head in our direction, was paddled ashore. "You’ve done it now, sir," Mr. Scarlett moaned, burying his face in his hands and sprawling across the table. "For God’s sake let’s get away from Muscat." I tried to pacify him by pointing out that if Jassim killed me he would lose all chance of finding the snake. "He won’t be such a fool as that," I said. "He’ll want revenge—revenge more than the snake—now, sir," Mr. Scarlett groaned. There are times in plenty in most men’s lives when, either through anger or stubbornness, danger does not influence them. This was a case in point. I had suffered so much from Jassim and his wretched snake that his threats simply stiffened my back to such an extent that I much preferred to be killed than give in. The mail steamer was leaving next day so to make certain that Jassim should not get it, I went aboard the _Intrepid_, told Popple Opstein what had happened, and after one last look at the bracelet we packed it up and sent it home to my bankers in London. At any rate, whatever happened to me (and I did not really believe that anything would happen) Jassim should never have it, and later on we might be able to negotiate for the reward of thirty thousand rupees with the rightful owner, the Khan of Khamia himself.