The Viking's Skull

by John R. Carling

And perceiving how deeply enthralled he was by the witchery of Lorelie Rivière her mind became tortured with exquisite pain.

Fearing that Idris and Godfrey might observe her emotion and divine its cause, she seized a favourable moment to steal from the apartment, without so little as a "Good-night," lest her voice should betray her.

And on attaining her dainty bedroom she flung herself upon the bed and gave way to emotion, despising herself as foolish, and yet unable to check her tears.

"If he but knew her true character!" she murmured: "If he but knew! But it is not for me to tell him. He will—he must learn it in time. And then—and then—perhaps—it may be—that——"

But Beatrice put this hope from her as too delightful ever to be realized.

"Now to examine my noble Viking," said Idris, taking up the skull from the table. "Let us see whether he has suffered any injury in his roll down-stairs.—Hul-lo!"

Shaking the skull as he spoke, his attention was arrested by a faint rattle within it, a sound that he had not heard in his previous handlings of the relic.

"Listen, Godfrey!" he cried in a curious tone of voice, and shaking the skull again. "What is this inside?"

He stopped the motion to examine the skull more carefully. Strange that till this moment he had not noticed that the occipital bone was pierced by a tiny hole of circular shape!