the cold, amazed scrutiny directed at her from above.
At the same time a voice inside her brain was repeating mechanically,
"But pythons don't bite--pythons don't bite.... Of course, I was
thinking of the hypodermic needle!" ...

"Please try to be more careful. That sort of thing is inexcusable. Is
there anything wrong with you this morning?"

"No, nothing, doctor. I can't tell you what made me drop it."

He still stared at her searchingly, his eyes probing her as if he had
some suspicion regarding her sanity. A weak voice came from the bed.

"Anybody might drop a basin, doctor," murmured Sir Charles dryly. "You
might yourself."

Esther laughed gratefully as she covered him up again, but she felt her
laugh to be a trifle hysterical. She hated the doctor to think her an
imbecile, yet for some reason her identification of the man with the
creature of her dream now struck her as extremely funny. She wanted to
laugh and laugh; it took all her resolution to restrain herself.... Of
course, the whole thing was clear now. Psycho-analysis explained
things so wonderfully. No doubt, now that she recognised the source of
that vague shrinking she felt in regard to Sartorius she would
experience it no longer. Odd, in more ways than one he did resemble a
python. His heavy, slow movements, the feeling he gave one of having
cold blood in his veins, his little, glancing eyes that so often seemed
the only part of him alive.... Yes, and there was something else,
though perhaps it was very fanciful of her to think of it in that way.
Jacques had told her how whenever the doctor had sufficient money--a
windfall, as he himself had called it--he would quit work, his
practice, that is, and devote himself to research until the last penny
was exhausted before bestirring himself again. Was not that the
python's method, making a hearty meal of sheep, then lying by for a
long period until he had absorbed it completely? What a curious
idea--revolting, somehow...

At intervals all during the day she caught Sartorius looking at her in
a meditative fashion, as though speculating about her mental condition.
Each time she felt his gaze upon her she longed again to burst into
laughter, her eyes danced, her mouth twitched. If only he had any idea!

When early that evening she set out for the Casino with her escort,
Miss Clifford came out of the drawing-room to bid her good-night.

"Have a good time, my dear," she said in her friendl