"It may be the one Maguennoc touched and burnt his hand with."
"You're mad."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of anything!" Vorski declared taking hold of the rod.
It was a leaden sceptre, very clumsily made, but nevertheless revealing a certain artistic intention. Round the handle was a snake, here encrusted in the lead, there standing out in relief. Its huge, disproportionate head formed the pommel and was studded with silver nails and little green pebbles transparent as emeralds.
"Is it the God-Stone?" Vorski muttered.
He handled the thing and examined it all over with respectful awe; and he soon observed that the pommel shifted almost loose. He fingered it, turned it to the left, to the right, until at length it gave a click and the snake's head became unfastened.
There was a space inside, containing a stone, a tiny, pale-red stone, with yellow streaks that looked like veins of gold.
"It's the God-Stone, it's the God-Stone!" said Vorski, greatly agitated.
"Don't touch it!" Conrad repeated, filled with alarm.