Milne nodded. ‘Indeed.’

But Hervey was intrigued, still. ‘Might you have saved the child had you found her alive, do you think?’

Milne inclined his head, as if to say the question was unanswerable. ‘Poison ingested directly? Deadlier than a bite, I should suppose.’

‘It seems to me strange that there’s no native medicine – none at least that I’ve heard tell of – after so many hundreds of years. My mare was bitten when first I was in India, and Johnson got hold of a Brahman who gave her some potion of mungo root, and she recovered. But I suspect now it was nothing of the kind – not a snakebite. Though there were distinct marks on her muzzle. Hornets, perhaps. Was it ever a subject of your medical society meetings?’

‘There were more pressing cases. I never heard tell of a snake in England kill anything but a dog.’

‘Quite.’

‘Mungo root, you say?’

‘Yes. I recall it has a botanical name suggestive of a cure, though I can’t remember what.’

‘Ophiorrhiza – snakeroot. The samperas – the snake-catchers – say the mongoose eats it and acquires immunity thereby. I’m not disposed to dismissing these things merely because they come from such an authority, but in this case I confess I’m sceptical. There was an interesting work published fifty years ago or thereabout, by an Italian monk, on the venom of the common viper. It can’t compare in potency with those here, of course, but I’m interested to know why. He was able to precipitate its constituents by alcohol, and observed that it produced not only coagulation of the blood, but puzzlingly, fluidity as well.’

‘Was that not observable in those who’d been bitten?’

‘Of course, but it’s only possible by careful examination of the blood. By microscope, I mean, and it seems he had none.’

Hervey would freely admit that he himself had no science to speak of. ‘What conclusions did he reach?’

‘Nothing of substance, except that vipers are immune to the venom.’

‘But how might they not be, since it comes from within?’

‘It comes from within, yes, but from poison sacs quite discrete from the circulatory system. But the good monk discerned also that the venom remained toxic in the prey.’

Hervey nodded. In truth, he’d had enough of snakes. If Milne wished to bring his faculties to bear on the matter, all well and good – some dragoon might be glad of it one day – but it didn’t conduce to conviviality.

‘But, this apart, the regiment is in good health, I believe I can say – have just said, indeed, in my letter to the colonel.’

‘Oh, quite so. I think we’ve come through the sickly season well, inasmuch as any season here’s more sickly than another. But the monsoon seems to bring with it particular ills … And the damned snakes washed out of their holes. Dearly should I like to know what was the Almighty’s purpose in them.’

Hervey sighed resignedly. Sometimes Milne could be persistent. ‘And I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed; it shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel. Doctor, you will not let the work of the Devil tempt you too much?’