“There, Miss Keeling,” he cried, in high delight, “I’ve got a spotted viper for you, for the collection! He’s a really fine beast; that measly old specimen the doctor got hold of hasn’t a look-in compared with him. See him, now,” and he unrolled the wrappings and displayed, as he said, a remarkably good specimen of the deadliest snake known to Kubbet-ul-Haj. It was only about twenty-seven inches long, but the spots, from which the Mission had given it its hopelessly unscientific name, were unusually brilliant.
“You very nearly had the chance of labelling him as a murderer,” Fitz went on, holding up the snake’s head and examining its fangs with the air of a connoisseur. “He reared up suddenly, just behind North, and had his head stretched out to strike. North was leaning on his elbow on the cushions, and when he saw all the Ethiopians staring at him as pale as death, he turned round. There was no time to move away, and he cut at the thing with his knife and missed. We were eating fruit just then, all smothered in snow from the hills. Stratford had his revolver out in a moment, and was going to fire, but I yelled out to him to stop. I didn’t want the skin spoilt, and I knew that a shot at that distance would smash the head all to smithereens. I had my riding-crop handy, and I jumped up and managed to catch the beast such a whack that it broke his spine or something. Anyhow, he was killed, and I brought him home all the way on purpose for you, Miss Keeling.”
[image: images/img_04.jpg caption: He reared up suddenly, just behind North, and had his head stretched out to strike.]
Georgia had turned pale and stepped back a little as Fitz looked up for her approval. Seeing her hesitation, Dr Headlam interposed.
“It really was very neatly done, Miss Keeling, though it was a risky thing, both for Anstruther and North. When I saw the crop come down, I could hardly believe that in his ardour for science Anstruther had not sacrificed North. It was a frightfully near business.”
“Who cares about North?” Fitz wanted to know. “It’s a jolly good specimen, Miss Keeling, and your beast is better than the doctor’s, at any rate. Your collection will take the cake now, I know.”
“Must it be stuffed?” asked Georgia, with unwonted timidity. “I don’t like it. It--it frightens me.”