Laura hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Lenora.

“Please go,” the latter begged.  “I really don’t feel like going to sleep just yet.”

“I’ll look after Lenora,” Quest promised.  “You have your walk.  There’s the Professor sitting outside his tent.  Wouldn’t you like to take him with you?”

Laura glanced indignantly at him as they strolled out, and Lenora laughed softly.

“How dared you suggest such a thing!” she murmured to Quest.  “Do look at them.  The Inspector wants her to take his watch, and she can’t quite make up her mind about it.  Why, Laura’s getting positively frivolous.”

“Guess we’d better not watch them any longer,” Quest decided.  “What about a game of bezique?”

“I should love it!” Lenora assented.  “You’ll find the cards in that satchel.”

They sat and played for half an hour by the light of a lantern.  Suddenly Quest paused in the act of dealing and glanced over his shoulder.

“What the mischief was that?” he muttered.

“Sounded as though the tent flapped,” Lenora replied.

Quest rose, and with the lantern in his hand walked to the other side of the tent.  The flap was open, but there was no sign of any one in sight.  He looked around and came back.

“Queer thing!” he exclaimed.  “It sounded just as though some one had pulled the flap of the tent back.  The flap’s open, but there isn’t a soul in sight.”

“I expect it was fancy,” Lenora remarked.  “Still, there isn’t a breath of wind, is there?”

Quest returned to his place, and they recommenced the game.  Just at that moment the entrance to the tent was lifted and Laura ran in.  She plumped down upon her bed with her hands on either side of her.

“If that man—­” she began.

Suddenly she sprang up with a little cry which turned almost into a scream.  From a look of humorous indignation, her face suddenly assumed an expression of absolute terror.  She shrank away.

“There’s something soft in the bed!” she shrieked.  “I felt it with my hand!”

They all looked towards the cot.  Quest held up the lantern.  They distinctly saw a movement under the bedclothes.  The Inspector, stooping down, suddenly entered the tent.

“Say, what’s wrong here?” he demanded.

“There’s something in Laura’s bed,” Quest muttered.  “Here, give me the camp-stool.”

He stole towards the bed, gripping the camp-stool firmly with his right hand, and slowly turning down the bedclothes with the feet of the chair.  Suddenly there was a piercing scream.  A huge snake, coiled and quivering for the spring, lifted its head.  Even Quest seemed for the moment nerveless.  Then from the doorway came the sharp report of a revolver, and the snake fell, a limp, inert thing.  They all looked at the Professor as though fascinated.  He came a step farther into the tent, the revolver still smoking in his hand.  Standing over the snake, he deliberately fired again and again into the body.