midnight was chiming from a distant church-tower as idris and godfrey stood on the edge of the upland that overlooked the valley of ravensdale.

they had left wave crest at eleven o'clock, and following a circuitous route, and favoured by the late hour, had succeeded in reaching their destination without attracting notice.

beatrice had begged hard to accompany them, but this godfrey would not permit. so she watched them from the garden-gate till they were out of sight, and then returned indoors to alarm herself by reading the adventures of belzoni in the great pyramid, finding some sort of affinity between the expedition of idris and that of the enterprizing paduan.

the night was lovely and cloudless, with a full moon shining from a sky of darkest blue.

shimmering white in the hallowed radiance arose the lofty tomb of the long-buried viking, and as the two friends made their way towards it the character of the undertaking began to oppress the mind of godfrey with various strange fancies. what the interior of the hillock would reveal he could not tell; but he had forebodings of something grim and ghostly. though it was of his own free will that he came, yet now, brought close to the intended task, he shrank from it, and found himself yielding to a spirit of fear.

he could not but admire the unconcern of his [pg 107]companion, who strode gallantly forward, humming the chorus of a hunting-song.

"confound yon bright moon!" muttered idris. "if any of the coast-guard should stroll this way, we are certain to be seen."

arrived at the northernmost point of the tumulus, he flung down the sack that he had carried containing the implements necessary for excavation, and turning his eyes upon the side of the hillock began to look about for the white-flowering mandrake that betokened the point of ingress.

he glanced quickly from right to left, but, to his surprise, the plant was nowhere to be seen.

"here's a mystery! what has become of the mandrake?—no matter: there's the pile of pebbles i set up on the spot where the shadow of the stone fell. i have but to repeat my former experiment."

making his way to the little heap idris faced about, and then began to walk towards the hillock, keeping in a direct line with the stone upon its apex.

on reaching the base of the tumulus he paused and remained stationary, with his back to godfrey, and his gaze riveted on the side of the mound. there was something so peculiar in the rigidity of his attitude, and in his long-continued silence, that godfrey's heart quickened with an unknown fear, a fear that deepened, when idris, with a scared face turned slowly round, and, as if the power of speech had left him, beckoned with his finger for the surgeon to come forward.

"look there!" he said in a hoarse voice, clutching godfrey with one hand, and pointing with the other. "tell me whether i see aright. what's that?"

and there, protruding from the side of the hillock in the place where the mandrake had grown, was—a human hand!

[pg 108]

a human hand, rising from the earth, motionless and rigid, the crooked fingers seeming to tell of the agony of a death by suffocation.

some one, since the morning, had been trying to force a way through the soil at the entrance of the passage, and had lost his life in the attempt.

such was idris' first thought. a closer inspection, however, showed that the event had not happened that day. the nails had fallen from the fingers, and there was, besides, a decayed, vegetable look about the hand, differing altogether from the aspect presented by the skin of the newly-dead. how idris came to overlook it during his morning visit was a mystery, since the hand must have been in its present position for several days, if not for several weeks. its sudden exposure was perhaps due to the afternoon storm, which had washed away a portion of the soil.

to endeavour to ascertain the identity of the victim by pulling at the withered hand, and thus bringing the decayed form to view, was an act that not only idris shrank from, but even godfrey, the surgeon, familiar with the disjecta membra of the dissecting room.

then idris, bending forward to examine the hand more closely, gave vent to a peal of laughter.

"brave heroes we are to be frightened by a plant! it is nothing but the root of the mandrake."

godfrey drew a breath of relief, as he assured himself by a nearer view that what he had taken for a human hand was indeed the withered root of the mandrake, so apt to assume strange and unaccountable shapes.

yet, to save his life, he durst not put forth his hand to touch it.

if such were the terrors guarding the exterior of the tomb, what might he not expect to find in the interior?

"now, godfrey, our silly fright being over, to work![pg 109] i will dig while you watch. take a seat on this boulder here, and if you should see anybody coming, give the word and i will suspend operations for a while. there cannot be more than five or six feet of earth to knock away, and then the passage will be open to our view. the work ought not to take long."

godfrey did as desired, and idris flung off ulster, coat, and vest. rolling his shirt-sleeves above the elbow, he drew the tools from the sack and selected a spade.

"now to disturb the repose of old orm the golden!" he cried, excitement sparkling from his eyes. "now to evoke the fires of the asas!"

the sickly, withered mandrake-root, with its resemblance to a human hand, fronted him, and as if in contempt of his former fears, he drove the edge of the spade clean through the stalk. the separated parts seemed to quiver and writhe in a manner extremely suggestive of animal-life.

a thrill of terror shot through his frame, and, spade in hand, he paused, staring at the root; for, simultaneously with its dissection, there came a sound, bearing resemblance to a plaintive human cry.

it was not the creation of his fancy, since godfrey too had heard it.

"in the name of all that's holy what was that?" he asked, starting up from the stone upon which he had been sitting.

"that is what i should like to know," said idris, trying to look unconcerned. "it came—or seemed to come—from this plant here. the poet speaks of:—

'shrieks like mandrakes torn from the ground!'

but i never thought to hear them in my own person."

[pg 110]

he toyed idly with the spade, desirous, yet almost afraid, of making a second stroke.

in all his life godfrey had never been so much alarmed as he was at that moment.

"idris, let us leave this business—at least, for to-night."

his words acted as a stimulus to the other's courage.

"leave it? never! till i have forced my way to the heart of this hillock, and wrested the secret from it. on the very point of discovery must we turn back, frightened by a sound, the cry, probably, of some night-bird? we are not the first to break into a norse barrow at midnight. shall we be outdone in enterprise by others? no: though the dead viking rise up, sword in hand, to repel me, yet will i go on."

and with this idris lifted the spade, and attacked the side of the hillock, savagely cutting the mandrake root to fragments, half expecting to hear the weird cry again. but the sound, whatever its origin, was not repeated.

finding the earth to be hard conglomerate, and not easily susceptible to impressions from the spade, idris laid that tool aside, and, fitting the wooden shaft of a pickaxe into its iron head, proceeded to reduce the conglomerate to a crumble, which he then tossed aside with the spade, labouring alternately with the two implements.

no word escaped him: he was too much interested in the work to waste his breath in words. his efforts soon unearthed two large unhewn blocks of stone standing a little distance apart.

fired to fresh energy by this sight, a proof that he was working in the right direction, he continued his excavations between the two blocks. after the lapse of a few minutes he paused, and thrust his arm up to the shoulder through an aperture appearing in the conglomerate.

"io triumphe!" he exclaimed. "empty space behind[pg 111] this. a little more labour, and we shall be able to crawl into the passage beyond."

declining godfrey's repeated offers of assistance, idris resumed his work enthusiastically, dealing stroke after stroke upon the wall of earth that barred his way. down came the black soil with a rush, as if glad to meet free air after an imprisonment of centuries. wider and wider grew the aperture, revealing an open space beyond: and, at last, flinging down his tools, idris declared that the way was now open to the interior.

"where's the lantern, godfrey?"

the surgeon was already fumbling about in the sack. with an exclamation of dismay he rose to his feet and gave it a shake, but nothing came forth.

"by heaven! godfrey, don't say that we have left the lantern behind!"

"that is just what we have done."

"at least, the match-box is there."

"no: that, too, is a minus article."

idris breathed a malediction. as he himself had attended to the putting up of their paraphernalia, the omission was his own, and no blame attached to godfrey.

the neglect seemed irremediable. it was out of the question to return to ormsby for the lantern, and yet, without a light, it would be hazardous to grope their way through darkness to the interior of the hillock. to be so near the point of discovery, and yet so far off, was maddening.

"i shall not return without some attempt at exploration," cried idris. "we'll have to grope about in the dark and try what we can discover in that way."

godfrey was almost ready to drop at this weird suggestion.

"stay a moment!" continued idris, stooping over his vest, and feeling in the pockets, "surely i have some[pg 112] matches here. yes," he added, with a cry of delight, drawing forth a metallic box. "here they are! how many? three, as i live! three only! humph! we shall have to economize our slender resources. we must feel our way along the passage. i'll walk a few steps ahead of you, so that if any hurt should befall me, take warning yourself, and help me if you can. we'll not strike these vestas till we are fairly within the central chamber. we may learn something from their glimmer."

idris, having resumed his coat and vest, was on the point of leading the way, when he suddenly became impressed with the idea that there might be some hidden danger within the hillock, and for beatrice's sake it was not right that godfrey should be drawn into it.

but the surgeon, though indeed reluctant to go forward, was nevertheless unwilling to be considered a coward, and demurred to the suggestion that he should remain at the entrance till idris had first paid a visit to the interior.

"seriously speaking," said idris, "i do not see what danger there can be, but still there is the possibility of it, and i ought to meet it alone. beatrice would never forgive me if harm should befall you. stay here till i have made a brief exploration."

while speaking he caught sight of the walking-stick with which godfrey's grandfather had been accustomed to perform his feats of divination. it was curiously shaped, carved so as to represent a serpent twining round a wand, the head of the reptile being set with two green, glittering stones in imitation of eyes.

"pass me your ancestral caduceus," he said. "it will serve to guide my steps. i wish these eyes were lamps!"

then, waving the surgeon back, he stepped within the dark hole, which seemed, in godfrey's imagination, to gape like the mouth of a great dragon about to swallow its victim.

[pg 113]

idris' sensations on entering the passage were far from agreeable. though the moonlight without was brilliantly white, not a ray of it found entrance to the passage; the air within was black and terrible, and as solid-looking as if formed of ebony.

his progress was slow and tedious, from the necessity imposed upon him of halting at each step to feel his way. before lifting his foot he carefully explored the ground in front of him with the stick, and he touched in turn the sides of the passage as well as the roof. the corridor, judged by this test, was about seven feet in height and four in width. roof, walls, and flooring were composed apparently of solid masonry.

after taking about twenty paces idris, extending the rod on each side of him, found that it touched nothing. the passage had opened out into something wider.

he judged that he had entered the mortuary chamber, and was now standing in the presence of the dead.

what awesome sight did the black darkness hide?

for all he knew to the contrary, not one, but many vikings might be entombed here, disposed at different points of the chamber, their bodies preserved from decay by embalming. like the lost and frozen dead men, seen sometimes by navigators in northern seas, they might be in sitting posture, staring with fixed and glassy eyes as if daring him to advance.

the temptation to obtain a glimpse of the place by striking one of the matches was very great, but he refrained from the action, resolving that godfrey should share the sight.

before calling upon him to follow, a sudden desire came upon idris to grope his way once around the interior.

exploring the darkness with his stick he soon hit upon the chamber-wall at the point where it shot off at right[pg 114] angles to the side of the passage. passing his hand over its surface, an action accompanied on his part by a feeling of disgust, the masonry being wet and slimy, he discovered what seemed to be a rusty rod extending in a horizontal line along the wall at the height of about six feet from the ground. puzzled at first to account for its use he came to the conclusion that it had once served to uphold the tapestry with which the interiors of these old norse tombs were sometimes decorated. the tapestry itself was gone, crumbled to dust, perhaps, with the lapse of time, but the metallic rod remaining would serve to conduct him round the chamber.

he shot a glance through the passage just traversed by him: the darkness swallowed up its perspective, rendering it impossible for the eye to form any judgment as to its length. the entrance seemed close by, a square patch of white light, in which was framed a dark stooping figure, that of godfrey, vainly endeavouring to keep an eye on his venturesome friend.

idris turned from the passage, and holding the rod with his left hand, and grasping the stick in his right, he advanced slowly and cautiously along the side of the chamber-wall, over ground that had, perhaps, been untrodden for ten centuries.

after taking six paces he was brought to a halt by the wall inclining again at right angles. he had evidently reached one corner of the stone chamber.

turning his face in this new direction, and still submitting to the guidance of the supposed tapestry-rod, he continued his progress, exploring the way before him with the stick.

he paused again as his left hand came in contact with a small triangular shred of cloth hanging to the rod. it was apparently a fragment of tapestry. there might be other and larger portions farther on, which, in view of[pg 115] their antiquity, would be of considerable value. pleased with the idea that he would not come away from the tomb altogether empty-handed he was about to move forward again, when his attention was suddenly diverted to the stick he was carrying.

without the exercise of any volition on his part it was slowly inclining itself downwards. there was no mistaking the fact, and the knowledge came upon him as a disagreeable surprise. it was as if the serpent-rod had suddenly become instinct with life.

his first impulse was to cast it from him, but thinking that its downward motion might be due to the relaxed state of his muscles, he raised and extended the stick horizontally: he kept it in that position, but it was evident to his sense of feeling that the rod manifested a tendency to assume an oblique direction, just as if a thread were tied to its extremity, and some one below lightly pulling it.

what was the cause of this? must he dismiss his former scepticism, and believe in the powers of the divining rod? had this staff of witch-hazel, electrified by the nervous force of his own body, become transformed for the moment into a sort of magnet, capable of being attracted by metals? was he standing on the site of the viking's buried treasure? was the very treasure itself lying upon the clay flooring at his feet? if he struck a match would his eye be caught by the sparkle of silver and gold? no: he would reserve the light, and make what discoveries he could without it.

relinquishing his hold of the metallic rod he dropped upon his knees, and with his face bent low, put forth his hands.

* * * * * *

hark! what was that?

the silent watcher at the entrance started.

[pg 116]

a faint cry from the interior of the hillock as of one calling for help, and then stillness.

for some time godfrey had kept his ear close to the flooring of the passage, a position which enabled him to follow the footsteps of idris. but now these footsteps had ceased, their cessation being followed shortly afterwards by the cry.

godfrey continued to listen, but though straining his ear to the utmost he could not detect the faintest sound. a suspiciously horrible stillness prevailed within.

"idris! idris!" he called out, sending the full volume of his voice along the passage: and "idris! idris!" was echoed from the roof in tones that seemed like a mockery of his own. if the dead in the sepulchral chamber were gibing at him the effect could not have been more weird.

again he called aloud, and again there was no answer, save the echoes of his own voice.

"my god! what has happened?" he cried.

there fell upon him a terror like that which has turned men's hair grey in a single night. he did not doubt, he could not doubt, that some disaster had happened: he must hasten to the rescue: duty, humanity, friendship, honour—all these blending together in a voice of thunder urged him forward. every moment was precious; and yet to venture into the dark chamber without a light seemed a piece of folly, for what was there to prevent him from meeting with the same fate as idris?

he rose to his feet and turned his eyes towards the cliffs and sea-beach in the hope of seeing a coast-guard whose lantern would at this juncture be of inestimable service. but alas! no coast-guard was visible, and to go off in search of one was out of the question, when a minute might make all the difference between life and death.

no: he must venture in alone, and without a light, and he nerved himself for the task. casting one glance[pg 117] at the sky, the sea, the land, as objects he might never see again, he snatched up the pickaxe to serve as a weapon of defence, against he knew not whom or what, and plunged into the mouth of the excavation that yawned black and grim before him.

his course through the passage was much quicker than that of idris had been. there could be no danger here, seeing that idris had traversed it in safety. therefore the surgeon groped his way swiftly along the wall of the corridor until it suddenly turned off at right angles, whence he concluded that he was at the entrance of the sepulchral chamber.

"idris, where are you?" he cried.

there was no vocal reply, but a faint splash greeted his ears like the movement of a hand through water, a sound which godfrey interpreted as an answer.

for a terrible idea had seized him. the floor of the chamber was of earth only, and not of masonry, he thought: and the rain of centuries, percolating through the roof, had converted this flooring into a quagmire incapable of supporting the lightest weight. idris had become immersed in it: had just sunk below the surface: his voice was gone: he had just given his last gasp!

how was he to save him? one step forward, and he himself might be in the abyss of mud.

to test his opinion he flung the pickaxe forward, taking care to avoid the spot whence came the splash. as it fell godfrey drew a breath of relief. the clangour made by the falling implement proved that the quagmire was the creation of his fancy. still, what had become of idris that he made no reply? he must be somewhere within this chamber, seeing that there was no egress from it except by the passage. o for a light, if only that of a match! its momentary gleam would suffice to dispel the mystery.

[pg 118]

he listened for idris' breathing, but failed to detect any sound: idris, if he were really here, was as still as the dead.

there was no other course for godfrey than to grope about until he came upon the body of idris, an unpleasant task, seeing that it might bring him into contact with the bones of vikings!

he started forward at random. five paces, and his knee knocked against some obstruction. putting out his hand he ascertained that directly in front of him was something formed of hewn stone.

with an instinctive feeling that this was a tomb, godfrey gave it a wide range, and in so doing stumbled and fell over another object.

it was a human body. in a moment godfrey was upon his knees, and passing his hand quickly over the prostrate figure he discovered that it was idris in a state of coma.

quickly he felt for the match-box which idris had put into his vest pocket, and on finding it, drew it forth. taking out one of the wax-lights he struck it on the side of the box.

never within godfrey's experience had the striking of a match been attended with a result so appalling, for he immediately found himself in an atmosphere of many-coloured flame. the hot breath of a fiery furnace glowed around, dazzling his eyes, scorching his face.

in that moment of bewilderment and terror the words of the runic ring flashed through his mind, and found expression in his gasping articulation:

"the fires of the asas!"

simultaneously with the illumination a fierce detonation like a powder-blast rent the air, and godfrey, flung backwards as by a giant hand, tumbled senseless to the ground.