He
prodded over his head behind him with the club, trying to find what
held the beam, and the ring of light lifted a foot or two, then five
feet, until its center was on the center of the club's handle.
A pistol cracked and flashed then, from behind the light, and the
club splintered. He dropped it, and the torch-light ceased, leaving
him dazed, but not so dazed that he did not hear a man sneak up and
carry the splintered club away. He followed after the man, for he
knew now that he was in a narrow passage and no man could get by him
to attack from behind.
But again the torch-light sought him out. Half-way to the foot of
steep stairs that he could dimly outline he halted, for advance
against hidden pistol-fire and dazzling light was futile.
"Look!" said the same soft, woman's voice. "Look, sahib! See,
Ranjoor Singh! the hooded death! See the hooded death behind you!"
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.
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