Squiffy read on:—­

“Suddenly another sound became audible—­a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continuously from a kettle.”

Lord Seacliff looked up from his book with a start Imagination was beginning to play him tricks.  He could have sworn that he had actually heard that identical sound.  It had seemed to come from the window.  He listened again.  No!  All was still.  He returned to his book and went on reading.

“It was a singular sight that met our eyes.  Beside the table, on a wooden chair, sat Doctor Grimesby Rylott, clad in a long dressing-gown.  His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling.  Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head.”

“I took a step forward.  In an instant his strange head-gear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat, diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent...”

“Ugh!” said Squiffy.

He closed the book and put it down.  His head was aching worse than ever.  He wished now that he had read something else.  No fellow could read himself to sleep with this sort of thing.  People ought not to write this sort of thing.

His heart gave a bound.  There it was again, that hissing sound.  And this time he was sure it came from the window.

He looked at the window, and remained staring, frozen.  Over the sill, with a graceful, leisurely movement, a green snake was crawling.  As it crawled, it raised its head and peered from side to side, like a shortsighted man looking for his spectacles.  It hesitated a moment on the edge of the sill, then wriggled to the floor and began to cross the room.  Squiffy stared on.

It would have pained Peter deeply, for he was a snake of great sensibility, if he had known how much his entrance had disturbed the occupant of the room.  He himself had no feeling but gratitude for the man who had opened the window and so enabled him to get in out of the rather nippy night air.  Ever since the bag had swung open and shot him out onto the sill of the window below Archie’s, he had been waiting patiently for something of the kind to happen.  He was a snake who took things as they came, and was prepared to rough it a bit if necessary; but for the last hour or two he had been hoping that somebody would do something practical in the way of getting him in out of the cold.  When at home, he had an eiderdown quilt to sleep on, and the stone of the window-sill was a little trying to a snake of regular habits.  He crawled thankfully across the floor under Squiffy’s bed.  There was a pair of trousers there, for his host had undressed when not in a frame of mind to fold his clothes neatly and place them upon a chair.  Peter looked the trousers over.  They were not an eiderdown quilt, but they would serve.  He curled up in them and went to sleep.  He had had an exciting day, and was glad to turn in.