IV
A curious rattling sound made them turn sharply the next moment, and
even though it proved to be the warning signal of an old snake-charmer,
Beryl welcomed the diversion. She looked at the man with a good deal of
interest, notwithstanding her repulsion. He was wrapped in a long, very
dirty, white _chuddah_, from which his face peered weirdly forth,
wrinkled and old, almost supernaturally old, she thought to herself. It
was very strangely adorned with red paint, which imparted to the eyes a
ghastly pale appearance in the midst of the swarthy skin. A wiry grey
beard covered the lower part of the face, and into this he was crooning
a tuneless and wholly unintelligible song, while he squatted on the
ground in front of a large, covered basket.
"He has got a cobra there," Fletcher said, and took Beryl's arm quietly.
She moved slightly, with a latent wish that he would take his hand away.
But natives were beginning to crowd and press about them to see the
show, and she realised that his action was dictated by necessity.
"Shall I take you away before we get hemmed in?" he asked her once.
But she shook her head. A nameless fascination impelled her to remain.
Even when the snake-charmer shot forth a dusky arm and clawed the basket
open, she showed no sign of fear, though Fletcher's hold upon her
tightened to a grip. They seemed to be the only Europeans in all that
throng, but that fact also she had forgotten.
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