"Are you not afraid of the crocodiles?" he asked. "Crocodiles," she stammered, and began to laugh; "crocodile, no, it's in my dressing bag!" "You must go back to the house at once, and promise to remain there," continued the stranger authoritatively. "Your arm is burning--you have fever." "But, who are you?" she asked; "are you the Angel of Death? Is this the boat to take me over? Oh, I am so thankful you have come," and she gazed into his face, her eyes ablaze with fever. "Oh, Angel of Death, I am not afraid; let us go," and she prepared to enter the boat. "Let us go now." "No, no, no!" protested Salwey, in a voice so persuasive and gentle as to sound like that of another person. "I cannot take you over this time; the current is too strong." "Oh, do, please; I cannot stay. Oh! I cannot wait!" and she wept and wrung her hands with a gesture of frantic despair. "Well, then I must go alone," and as she spoke, she thrust him aside with all her feeble might. It was not often that Brian Salwey found himself in such a dilemma--although it was by no means the first time that he had indirectly represented the Angel of Death. If he left this distracted girl in order to seek for assistance she would drown herself without a doubt. After considerable delay and many solemn and astounding lies he induced her to believe that he truly was the Angel Azrael and would return for her, without fail, on the following evening. Having made this soothing and mendacious promise he "charmed so wisely" that he prevailed upon Verona to re-enter her room. He then fastened the door outside, in a makeshift fashion, with his handkerchief and necktie, and ran at the top of his speed in order to summon his aunt. CHAPTER XIX Mrs. Lepell was about to retire for the night when her nephew, almost breathless, dashed into the verandah. "Oh, what is it?" she asked, "Dacoits, or fire?" "It is that girl, Aunt Liz, Miss Chandos, she was going to throw herself into the river; you were quite right when you said she would do something. As I was going home, I noticed her on the bank carrying on in a rum sort of way, and tossing her arms about. So I rowed up pretty close, and was just in time to stop her from jumping into the water. I have persuaded her to return to her room, on the sole understanding that I am the Angel of Death, and am coming to fetch her to-morrow. I want you to hurry over at once--this moment--and get someone to look after her." "Why, of course, I'll go myself." In another moment Mrs. Lepell was calling for her cloak and shoes, and she and her nephew were running--followed by an ayah and a peon--in the direction of Chandos Koti. * * * * * A visit from Mrs. Lepell at twelve o'clock at night! Was the world coming to an end?