Already he had explained to Muriel what he intended to do; and Muriel, half dazed with terror and paralyzed by these awful preparations, consented passively.  “But how if you never come back, Felix?” she cried at last, clinging to him passionately.

Felix looked at her with a fixed look.  “I have thought of that,” he said.  “M.  Peyron, to whom I sent a message by flashes, has helped me in my difficulty.  This bowl has poison in it.  Peyron sent it to me to-day.  He prepared it himself from the root of the kava bean.  If by sunrise to-morrow you have heard no news, drink it off at once.  It will instantly kill you.  You shall not fall alive into that creature’s clutches.”

By slow degrees the evening wore on, and night approached—­the last night that remained to them.  Felix had decided to make his attempt about one in the morning.  The moon was nearly full now, and there would be plenty of light.  Supposing he succeeded, if they gained nothing else, they would gain at least a day or two’s respite.

As dusk set in, and they sat by the door of the hut, they were all surprised to see Ula approach the precinct stealthily through the jungle, accompanied by two of Tu-Kila-Kila’s Eyes, yet apparently on some strange and friendly message.  She beckoned imperiously with one finger to Toko to cross the line.  The Shadow rose, and without one word of explanation went out to speak to her.  The woman gave her message in short, sharp sentences.  “We have found out all,” she said, breathing hard.  “Fire and Water have learned it.  But Tu-Kila-Kila himself knows nothing.  We have found out that the King of the Rain has discovered the secret of the Great Taboo.  He heard it from the Soul of all dead parrots.  Tu-Kila-Kila’s Eyes saw, and learned, and understood.  But they said nothing to Tu-Kila-Kila.  For my counsel was wise; I planned that they should not, with Fire and Water.  Fire and Water and all the people of Boupari think, with me, the time has come that there should arise among us a new Tu-Kila-Kila.  This one let his blood fall out upon the dust of the ground.  His luck has gone.  We have need of another.”

“Then for what have you come?” Toko asked, all awestruck.  It was terrible to him for a woman to meddle in such high matters.

“I have come,” Ula answered, laying her hand on his arm, and holding her face close to his with profound solemnity—­“I have come to say to the King of the Rain, ‘Whatever you do, that do quickly.’  To-night I will engage to keep Tu-Kila-Kila in his temple.  He shall see nothing.  He shall hear nothing.  I know not the Great Taboo; but I know from him this much—­that if by wile or guile I keep him alone in his temple to-night, the King of the Rain may fight with him in single combat; and if the King of the Rain conquers in the battle, he becomes himself the home of the great deity.”

She nodded thrice, with her hands on her forehead, and withdrew as stealthily as she had come through the jungle.  The Eyes of Tu-Kila-Kila, falling into line, remained behind, and kept watch upon the huts with the closest apparent scrutiny.