He would kill them both now.

Why, she asked with sudden passion, why this misery?
What had she done in her young life to merit it?
Under-fed, dressed in grass, harassed by men and wild beasts--why?
Umballa edged out of danger and sat up, feeling tenderly of his throat.
Next he picked up his turban and crawled to the open door.

He pulled himself up and stood there, weakly.

But there was venom enough in his eyes.

The tableau lasted a minute or two; then slowly he closed the door, bolted it, and departed.
This ominous silence awoke the old terror in Kathlyn's heart far more than oral threats would have done.