“Anna who? Well, never mind. Go away, Hanna. I’ll talk to you in the morning.” Then I kicked the door, and at length, very cautiously, Mr. Savage opened it. “Good heavens, sir,” he said, “what are you doing here, sir? Dressed too, at this hour, and with the handle of a pistol sticking out of your pocket—or is it—the head of a snake?” and he jumped back, a strange and stately figure in a long white nightshirt which apparently he wore over his underclothing. I entered the room and shut the door, whereon he politely handed me a chair, remarking, “Is it ghosts, sir, or are you ill, or is it Harum and Scarum, of whom I have been thinking all night? Very cold too, sir, being afraid to pull up the bedclothes for fear lest there might be more reptiles in them.” He pointed to his dress-coat hanging on the back of another chair with both the pockets turned inside out, adding tragically, “To think, sir, that this new coat has been a nest of snakes, which I have hated like poison from a child, and me almost a teetotaller!” “Yes,” I said impatiently, “it’s Harum and Scarum as you call them. Take me to Lord Ragnall’s bedroom at once.” “Ah! sir, burgling, I suppose, or mayhap worse,” he exclaimed as he threw on some miscellaneous garments and seized a life-preserver which hung upon a hook. “Now I’m ready, only I hope they have left their snakes behind. I never could bear the sight of a snake, and they seem to know it—the brutes.” In due course we reached Lord Ragnall’s room, which Mr. Savage entered, and in answer to a stifled inquiry exclaimed, “Mr. Allan Quatermain to see you, my lord.” “What is it, Quatermain?” he asked, sitting up in bed and yawning. “Have you had a nightmare?” “Yes,” I answered, and Savage having left us and shut the door, I told him everything as it is written down. “Great heavens!” he exclaimed when I had finished. “If it had not been for you and your intuition and courage——” “Never mind me,” I interrupted. “The question is—what should be done now? Are you going to try to arrest these men, or will you—hold your tongue and merely cause them to be watched?” “Really I don’t know. Even if we can catch them the whole story would sound so strange in a law-court, and all sorts of things might be suggested.” “Yes, Lord Ragnall, it would sound so strange that I beg you will come at once to see the evidences of what I tell you, before rain or snow obliterates them, bringing another witness with you. Lady Longden, perhaps.” “Lady Longden! Why one might as well write to _The Times_. I have it! There’s Savage. He is faithful and can be silent.” So Savage was called in and, while Lord Ragnall dressed himself hurriedly, told the outline of his story under pain of instant dismissal if he breathed a word. Really to watch his face was as good as a play. So astonished was he that all he could ejaculate was— “The black-hearted villains! Well, they ain’t friendly with snakes for nothing.”