"Wait a minute. Where are the matches?"
He picked up a box from the dressing-table, moved the chair from the door and left the room. In a minute or two he returned, carrying an old porcelain vase, and shut the door.
"I found this stuck away with a lot of rubbish in the outer room," he said. "I don't suppose any one will miss it."
Dermot watched him with curiosity as he placed the vase on the floor near the bed and picked up the cane. Putting its point under the cobra he lifted the wriggling body on the stick and with some difficulty dropped the snake into the vase, where they heard its head striking the sides with furious blows.
"I hope it won't break the damned thing just when I'm carrying it," he said, regarding the vase anxiously.
"What are you doing that for?" asked Dermot.
The police officer lowered his voice.
"Well, Major, we don't want these would-be murderers to know how their trick failed. That's the reason I didn't pound the brute to a jelly on the bed, for it would have made such a mess on the sheet. Now there isn't a speck on it. I'll take the vase with me into my room and finish the cobra off. In the morning I'll get rid of its body somehow. When these devils find tomorrow that you're not dead, they'll be very puzzled. Now, the question is, what are you going to do?"
"Going to bed," answered Dermot, continuing to undress. "There's nothing else to be done at this hour, is there?"
The police officer looked at him with admiration.