By Right of Conquest: A Novel

by Arthur Hornblow

With eyes dilated with terror, with every nerve tense to the snapping-point, she watched with fearful fascination that hideous, slimy head as with slow, rhythmic motion it swayed from side to side, the forked tongue darting from the horrid mouth as lightning rends the skies. Staring straight into the cruel, beady eyes, her fixed gaze seemed riveted there against her will, as if the reptile had cast over her a hypnotic spell. She felt herself gradually growing numb, cold sweat burst from every pore, her flesh crept, and there was a tingling sensation at the roots of her hair.

Each instant she expected that the cobra would dart forward and strike her. The suspense was fearful. The seconds seemed like centuries. She wondered when the fatal moment would come that would mean her death. Certainly, all was over with her now. The storm, the shipwreck—that was nothing. This new peril, a thousand times more deadly than those she had emerged from safely, was momentarily coming nearer, and she was powerless to avert it. She must be resigned to perish miserably and cruelly the most shocking of deaths. Escape was out of the question. Coiled up in threatening attitude at the foot of the bed the reptile was between her and safety. If she attempted to run she would never reach the open.

That the cobra was conscious of her presence and was preparing to attack there could be no doubt. It showed its irritation in the manner usual to its species, by dilating its neck until it formed the shape of a broad hood. Evidently the reptile made its home in one of the dark recesses of the cave. Asleep, it had awakened during the night, and its keen sense of smell attracted by the unusual odor of a warm human body, it had crawled to where she lay and now was ready to claim its prey. The slightest move on her part and it would dart forward. A lightninglike thrust forward of that loathsome head, then the powerful, scaly coils would close around her, there would be the ghastly sound of bones being crunched, and all would be over. Armitage would come in only to find her mangled and partially devoured body, perhaps himself to meet with a similar fate.

Again she opened her mouth to scream and warn him. Her tongue clove, speechless, to her dry palate. A feeling of nausea came over her, her temples were throbbing, her heart seemed to have stopped beating. She wondered if she had gone mad.

She was noting the curious, spectacle-like markings on the back of the reptile's hood when suddenly the cobra started to hiss loudly as slowly it began to move nearer to its trembling victim. Coil after coil of its glistening, sinuous body followed the hideous head as the creature dragged itself along. As it glided its sinister way over the sand the cruel, beady eyes for a brief instant were averted from the girl. Instantly the hypnotic spell which had held her transfixed was broken. Uttering a piercing scream, she sprang from the bed and took refuge on the far side of the cave. The cobra, enraged at her attempt to escape, hissed more loudly, and, accelerating its movements, moved rapidly in her direction.

Flattened up against the wall of the cave Grace's lips parted in a last, despairing prayer. She could retreat no farther. Solid rock barred the way, and escape to the open was cut off. She had not improved her position. By seeking to evade her doom, the agony was only drawn out the longer. The cobra was now only a dozen feet away. Coiling upon itself within striking distance it suddenly drew back its head, then, with lightning speed, shot it forward.

Quick as the movement was, Grace was quicker. Her instinct of self-preservation enabled her to foretell the instant the creature would spring, and the energy of despair gave her strength. Giving another shout for help, she nimbly jumped aside just in time to avoid the blow. Hissing furiously with baffled rage the serpent resumed the attack. Dawn was slowly breaking, and in the dim light she could see the creature's cruel eyes scintillating as they turned to look for her.

Breathless, panting from the unusual exertion, in a state of complete nervous collapse, Grace was in no condition to continue the unequal combat. She realized that her strength was fast ebbing. It was only a question of seconds now when she must succumb. As those horrid, beady eyes met hers, again she was seized with that strange sense of limpness, utter inability to move a muscle. Again she was under the hypnotic spell. She realized that death in its most fearful form was there before her, claiming her. She felt sick and faint. Staggering as she clutched the cold, rocky wall of her living prison, she gave another despairing scream like a wail of human agony.

Scarcely conscious, she saw through her half-closed eyes the cobra gliding nearer, she could almost feel the reptile's fetid breath upon her cheek. With hopeless horror she saw it approach closer and closer, then stop and again coil itself ready for the final spring. She shuddered, and, closing her eyes, waited for the end. There was a strange buzzing in her ears. Suddenly everything grew dark. The cobra began hissing more furiously. There was a loud crash and she knew no more.

When again she opened her eyes, she was lying on the bed and Armitage was kneeling by her side, bathing her face with water. Surprised to find herself still alive, she looked at him, the look of terror still in her face. Fearfully she whispered: