It was not her command that made him look. He knew better than to turn his head at an unseen woman's bidding in the dark. But he heard them hiss, and he turned to see four cobras come toward him, with the front third of their bodies raised from the floor and their hoods extended. He saw that a panel in the wooden wall had slid, and the last snake's tail was yet inside the gap. There was no need of a man to slip between him and the door! "There are more in the wall, Ranjoor Singh! Will they follow thee up-stairs? See, they come! Step swiftly, for the hooded death is swift!" The light went out again, and his ears were all he had to warn him of the snakes' approach--ears and imagination. Swift as a well launched charge of light cavalry, he leaped for the stairs and took them four at a time. He reached the top one sooner than he knew it. The torch flashed in his eyes, and he saw a pistol-mouth just beyond arm-reach. "Stand, Ranjoor Singh!" said a voice that he felt sure he recognized. His eyes began to search beyond the light for glimpses of dim outline. "Back, Ranjoor Singh! Back to the right--toward that door! In, through that door--so!" He obeyed, since he knew now with whom he had to deal. There was no sense at all in taking liberties with Yasmini. He stepped into a bare, dark, teak-walled room, and she followed him, and she had scarcely closed the door at her back before another door opened at the farther end, and two of her maids appeared, carrying candle-lamps. "What do you want with me?" demanded Ranjoor Singh. "Nay! Did I invite the sahib?" "I came about a murderer who entered by that door through which I came." "To pay him the reward, perhaps?" she asked impudently. "Is this thy house?" asked Ranjoor Singh. "This is the House-of-the-Eight-Half-brothers, sahib." "This is a hole where murderers hide! A man of mine was slain in the street below, and the murderer came in here. Where is he now?" "He and the bigger fool who followed him," said Yasmini, poising herself like a nodding blossom and smiling like the promise of new love, as she paused to be insolent and let the insolence sink home, "are at my mercy!" Ranjoor Singh did not answer, but she could draw no amusement from his silence, for his eye was unafraid. "I am from the North, where the quality of mercy is thought weakness," she smiled sweetly. "Who asks mercy? I was seen and heard to enter. There will be a hundred seeking me within an hour!" "Sahib, within two hours there will be five thousand around this house, yet none will seek to enter! And they will find no murderer, though thou shalt see thy murderer. Come this way, sahib."