He slipped under the door as she watched him.
"How queer and quiet it is," she said.

"It sounds as if there was no one in the bungalow but me and the snake." Almost the next minute she heard footsteps in the compound, and then on the veranda.

They were men's footsteps, and the men entered the bungalow and talked in low voices.

No one went to meet or speak to them and they seemed to open doors and look into rooms.
"What desolation!" she heard one voice say.

"That pretty, pretty woman! I suppose the child, too.