The Serpent's Shadow

No part of the house was forbidden to Charan, although he seldom ventured anywhere but the conservatory, her bedroom and, occasionally, the kitchen. Yet, with no warning, no prompting, no hint whatsoever, the door— which must have been improperly closed, creaked slowly open. And there, clinging to it with his tiny hands, his great, solemn eyes fixed on the stranger, was Charan himself.

'By Jove!' Scott exclaimed, with as much pleasure as surprise. 'A Hanuman langur!'

He was still seated, but leaned down so that he no longer loomed over Charan's head, and extended a hand. 'Hello there, my fine fellow!' he said, in a coaxing tone that had none of the overly hearty tones of someone who is feigning interest in an animal or child. 'I don't suppose you speak English, do you? My Hindu's a bit rusty. Would you care to come and make my acquaintance?'

Charan tilted his head to the side, then let go of the door and dropped to all fours, making his leisurely way to the stranger while Maya watched in mingled trepidation and astonishment. It looked as if Charan liked the newcomer—but Charan could be as duplicitous as any street brat, and was equally capable of pretending to like someone just so that he could get near enough to sink his fine set of fangs into the extended hand.

Peter Scott, if he knew enough to know what Charan was, surely knew that as well. But he didn't move, either to pull back, or to extend his hand further. And he didn't make any of the silly noises people often did to reassure the monkey. He didn't smile— wise, since the baring of teeth was a sign of incipient battle among those of Charan's ilk—but he did blink, slowly, and make a faint, clucking sound.

Charan sat down, just within reach. He contemplated the extended fingers, then raised his great, sad eyes to Scott's face and locked gazes with him.

Then with the greatest of casual ease, as if he had known Peter Scott all of his life, he put his tiny hand gravely into Peter's large one.

Peter gently closed his hand around Charan's. 'I am pleased to meet you, sir,' he said, and only then did he look up at Maya while Charan waited trustingly at Peter's feet. 'Since he and I don't share a language, I don't suppose you could tell me what his name is, could you?'

'Charan,' she replied, and before she could say more, Peter immediately returned his attention to the monkey.

'I am glad to meet you, Charan,' he said, releasing the little paw. 'My name is Peter. Would you care to join me? I'm afraid your protector has only provided a single seat, but you can use my good knee, if you wish.'

Now Scott straightened up, and at that signal, as if he had understood every word—which, all things considered, he might very well have—Charan leaped up onto the correct knee, and balanced himself there quite as if he belonged.

'I haven't seen a Hanuman langur since my last trip out,' Scott said softly, and ventured to scratch Charan's head. Charan closed his eyes and leaned into the scratching fingers, his face relaxed into a mask of bliss. 'By heaven, he brings back memories! I know that a lot of the sahibs thought they were filthy little nuisances, but— well, I like them. I like their cheek, and their cleverness. So—' he faltered a moment, then looked squarely up into her eyes. 'So few people take the trouble to bring a pet from abroad home with them; one sees the poor things wandering forlorn so often, in every land there is, not excepting this one. It speaks a great deal for you that you did not take that 'expedient' answer, Doctor, when you moved to our island.'

She had noted that the longer he spoke, the less he sounded like a working man, and the more like a man of some education.

If this isn't a sign— 'Antoine de Saint-Exupery,' she said, a last test, and he nodded.

' 'Many have forgotten this truth, but you must not forget it,' ' he quoted, with a kind of reverence most reserved for the words of the Bible, ' 'You remain responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.' '

She let out her breath in a soft sigh. 'I believe— perhaps—I can help you a little, Captain Scott. But it will take time and patience.'

'Patience—so long as it isn't storming—I have plenty of, Doctor,' he replied, looking down at Charan, who had decided that a man so adept at scratching must be equally adept at cuddling and had moved into the crook of his arm. 'As for time—' He looked up, and a faint smile answered her shake of the head at Charan's boldness. 'As for time, however much I have, it is not being spent well when I'm driven out of temper, is it?'

She had to laugh, for between Charan and this man's undeniable charm, she had been won over, entirely against her own judgment and will. 'Very well, then, Captain Scott. If you will follow me into the examination room—and yes, Charan, he will carry you—' she added, as Charan opened one eye resentfully at the prospect of being forced from his comfortable 'nest,' '—I will make some more specific tests, and see just how much I can improve that temper of yours.'

Peter Scott left Doctor Witherspoon's office knowing that however much he had managed to charm the doctor, she had entranced him that much again, and more. There being no further patients waiting, he had met the doctor's entire menagerie, been invited to what was clearly her true sanctum, a conservatory worthy of a