A shriek, that filled those who heard it with a thrill of horror, rang out on the silent night.  At the same moment a gush of warm blood poured over the murderer’s face before he could leap aside.  Instant uproar and confusion burst out in the neighbourhood, and spread like wildfire until the whole town was aroused.  When a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, Van der Kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor Babu, who was at his last gasp.  A faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit’s hand and pressed it to his lips.  Then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back—­dead.

One great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room.

Vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on Baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found.  He was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night.  When daybreak enabled the townspeople to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered.

Flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate’s plan.  The guilty man had reached that state of depravity which, especially among the natives of that region, borders close on insanity.  While the inhabitants of the village were hunting far a-field for him, Baderoon lay concealed among some lumber in rear of a hut awaiting his opportunity.  It was not very long of coming.

Towards afternoon the various searching parties began to return, and all assembled in the market-place, where the chief man, with the hermit and his party, were assembled discussing the situation.

“I will not now proceed until we have buried poor Babu,” said Van der Kemp.  “Besides, Baderoon will be sure to return.  I will meet him now.”

“I do not agree viz you, mine frond,” said the professor.  “Zee man is not a fool zough he is a villain.  He knows vat avaits him if he comes.”

“He will not come openly,” returned the hermit, “but he will not now rest till he has killed me.”

Even as he spoke a loud shouting, mingled with shrieks and yells, was heard at the other end of the main street.  The sounds of uproar appeared to approach, and soon a crowd of people was seen rushing towards the market-place, uttering cries of fear in which the word “a-mok” was heard.  At the sound of that word numbers of people—­specially women and children—­turned and fled from the scene, but many of the men stood their ground, and all of them drew their krisses.  Among the latter of course were the white men and their native companions.

We have already referred to that strange madness, to which the Malays seem to be peculiarly liable, during the paroxysms of which those affected by it rush in blind fury among their fellows, slaying right and left.  From the terrified appearance of some of the approaching crowd and the maniac shouts in rear, it was evident that a man thus possessed of the spirit of amok was venting his fury on them.