The Viking's Skull

by John R. Carling

Lorelie was silent for a few moments, as if reflecting how to answer an obviously embarrassing question.

"It is true," she said at last. "I will admit that I do know something of that lost vessel, and that I have taken a deep interest in it."

"The vessel carried some one dear to you?"

"Really, Mr. Breakspear, you are very curious," she cried, with a flash of her bright eyes. "Before answering I must know the motive for this catechism."

"I have reason to believe," answered Idris, "that there was on board one, Eric Marville by name."

"And what," asked Lorelie—and at the chilling fall in her voice Idris started—"what is Eric Marville to you, that you should take an interest in his fate?"

For a moment Idris hesitated, loth to tell the woman whom he loved that he was the son of a fugitive convict. Then he resolved to be frank, believing that if she were a true woman she would not despise him for a misfortune not of his own causing.

"Eric Marville," he answered humbly, "is my father's name."

At these words Lorelie Rivière shrank back in the Hermit's Seat, staring at Idris, her face white, her hand lifted to her side.