Below in the scrub--that wild thick undergrowth among trees,
harbouring so many strange creatures--there were hoarse cries, and
now and then the howl of a dingo, so horribly suggestive of a human
being in an agony of pain.

The pair on the veranda clung together for an instant--one only.

"I must go to Becky," whispered Mrs. Orban, recovering herself.

But Eustace held her down.

"Oh, don't--don't for one moment," he implored; "wait and see what
it is."

"Pad-pad-pad" came the steps, nearer and nearer. A shadow fell
aslant the corner of the veranda--the shadow of a man thrown by the
light from the drawing-room side window.

[Illustration: The shadow of a man fell aslant the corner of the
veranda.]

CHAPTER IV.

A NIGHT OF TERROR.

"Mrs. Orban," called a voice softly--a familiar English-speaking
voice; "Mrs. Orban, are you still up?"

Mother and son fell apart, and Eustace sprang to his feet.

"Why, it is Bob!" he exclaimed in bewilderment.

"Bob!" cried his mother. "Impossible!"

"Not a bit," said Bob Cochrane, coming round into the streak of
lamplight, carrying his boots in his hands. "I just strolled over
to see if you were all right. When I got to the steps it struck me
I might startle you if I came thundering up, so I took my boots off
and crept round to find out where you were. You were so quiet I
thought you must have gone to bed and left the lights burning."

"We were talking, nevertheless, when you arrived," Mrs. Orban said,
"for I was telling Eustace a story."

"I didn't hear you," Bob said. "Probably my heart was in my mouth,
and beating so loud that it deafened me; for, of course, I knew I
carried my life in my hand."

"Your life in your hand?" repeated Eustace wonderingly.

"Certainly. I felt sure you would bound on me with a revolver the
moment you heard me, shoot me dead, and then demand an explanation.
It is the sort of ardent thing one might expect from a knight of
your order, Sir Eustace."

Bob's chaff went deeper home than he meant it to. Eustace was in no
mood for joking after the strain of the last few minutes. He hoped
with all his heart that Mrs. Orban would not betray to Bob how
terror-stricken he had just shown himself. Perhaps she understood,
or it may be that she was half ashamed of her own unnecessary
panic, for she only said,--

"It is really very good of you to have come in the face of that
grave peril, and at such an hour too."

"Well, the fact is I want