When a light was procured and the people crowded into the hut where the strangers lay, Van der Kemp was found on his knees holding the hand of poor Babu, who was at his last gasp.

A faint smile, that yet seemed to have something of gladness in it, flitted across his pale face as he raised himself, grasped the hermit's hand and pressed it to his lips.

Then the fearful drain of blood took effect and he fell back--dead.
One great convulsive sob burst from the hermit as he leaped up, drew his knife, and, with a fierce glare in his blue eyes, rushed out of the room.
Vengeance would indeed have been wreaked on Baderoon at that moment if the hermit had caught him, but, as might have been expected, the murderer was nowhere to be found.

He was hid in the impenetrable jungle, which it was useless to enter in the darkness of night.

When daybreak enabled the townspeople to undertake an organised search, no trace of him could be discovered.
Flight, personal safety, formed no part of the pirate's plan.