she gasped vehemently. "If you can't, I can--and I
will!"

Before he could stop her she had stooped, still holding him fast, and
put her lips to the tiny puncture in his flesh, on which scarcely more
than a speck of blood was visible.

Phil stiffened and stood still, every nerve rigid, as if something had
transfixed him. At last, hurriedly, jerkily, he spoke:

"Mrs. Tudor--for Heaven's sake! I can't let you do this. It wasn't
poisonous, ten to one. Don't! I say, Audrey--please don't!"

His voice was imploring, but she paid no heed. Her lips continued to
draw at the wound, while he, half-distracted, bent over her, protesting,
scarcely conscious of what he said, yet submitting in spite of himself.

There came the sound of running feet, and he guessed that her scream had
given the alarm. He stood up with mingled agitation and relief, and an
instant later was face to face with her husband.

"I--couldn't help it!" he stammered. "It was a snake-bite."

People were crowding round them with questions and exclamations. But
Tudor gave utterance to neither. He only put his hand on his wife's
shoulder and spoke to her.

"That will do, Audrey," he said. "There's a doctor here. Leave it to
him."

At his words Audrey straightened herself, quivering all over; and then,
unnerved by sheer horror, she put out her hands with an unconscious
groping gesture, and fainted.

CHAPTER IV

AN UNCONVENTIONAL CALL

Audrey had been an only girl at home, and had run wild all her life
amongst a host of brothers. She had seen next to nothing of the world
previous to her marriage, consequently her knowledge of its ways was
extremely slender.

That she had grown up headstrong and extremely unconventional was
scarcely to be wondered at.

It had been entirely by her own choice that she had married Eustace
Tudor. She had just awakened to the fact that the family nest, like the
family purse, was of exceedingly narrow dimensions; and a passion for
exploring both mentally and physically was hers.

They had met only a couple of months before he was due to sail for
India, and his proposal to her had been necessarily somewhat
precipitate. She had admired him wholeheartedly for he was a soldier of
no mean repute, and the glamour of marriage had done the rest. She had
married him and had, for nearly six weeks, thereafter, been supremely
happy. True, he had not made much love to her; it was not apparently
his way, but he had been full of