screen had ceased to
move. Then taking a bunch of keys from his pocket he stooped under the
open writing-flap of the bureau and unlocked the lowest of the three
drawers. From this drawer he lifted a scarlet despatch-box, and was just
going to bring it to the table when Baram Singh silently appeared once
more. At once Ballantyne dropped the box on the floor, covering it as
well as he could with his legs.

"What the devil do you want?" he cried, speaking of course in Hindustani,
and with a violence which seemed to be half made up of anger and half of
fear. Baram Singh replied that he had brought an ash-tray for the Sahib,
and he placed it on the round table by Thresk's side.

"Well, get out and don't come back until you are called," cried
Ballantyne roughly, and in evident relief as Baram Singh once more
retired he took a long draught from a fresh tumbler of whisky-and-soda
which stood on the flap of the bureau beside him. He then stooped once
more to lift the red despatch-box from the floor, but to Thresk's
amazement in the very act of stooping he stopped. He remained with his
hands open to seize the box and his body bent over his knees, quite
motionless. His mouth was open, his eyes staring, and upon his face such
a look of sheer terror was stamped as Thresk could never find words to
describe. For the first moment he imagined that the man had had a stroke.
His habits, his heavy build all pointed that way. The act of stooping
would quite naturally be the breaking pressure upon that overcharged
brain. But before Thresk had risen to make sure Ballantyne moved an arm.
He moved it upwards without changing his attitude in any other way, or
even the direction of his eyes, and he groped along the flap of the
bureau very cautiously and secretly and up again to the top ledge. All
the while his eyes were staring intently, but with the intentness of
extreme fear, not at the despatch-box but at the space of carpet--a
couple of feet at the most--between the despatch-box and the tent-wall.
His fingers felt along the ledge of the bureau and closed with a silent
grip upon the handle of the riding-crop. Thresk jumped to the natural
conclusion: a snake had crept in under the tent-wall and Ballantyne dared
not move lest the snake should strike. Neither did he dare to move
himself. Ballantyne was clearly within reach of its fangs. But he looked
and--there was nothing. The light was not good certainly, and down by the
tent-wall there close