es, Yes! You have obeyed the
dead--the dead who feign sleep, but are ever wakeful;--you have come as
a thief in the golden midnight, and the thing you seek is the life of
Sigurd! Yes--yes! it is true. The spirit cannot lie. You must kill, you
must steal! See how the blood drips, drop by drop, from the heart of
Sigurd! And the jewel you steal--ah, what a jewel!--you shall not find
such another in Norway!"

His excited voice sank by degrees to a plaintive and forlorn whisper,
and dropping his torch with a gesture of despair on the ground, he
looked at it burning, with an air of mournful and utter desolation.
Profoundly touched, as he immediately understood the condition of his
companion's wandering wits, Errington spoke to him soothingly.

"You mistake me," he said in gentle accents; "I would not steal anything
from you, nor have I come to kill you. See," and he held out his hand,
"I wouldn't harm you for the world. I didn't know this cave belonged to
you. Forgive me for having entered it. I am going to rejoin my friends.
Good-bye!"

The strange, half-crazy creature touched his outstretched hand timidly,
and with a sort of appeal.

"Good-bye, good-bye!" he muttered. "That is what they all say,--even the
dead,--good-bye; but they never go--never, never! You cannot be
different to the rest. And you do not wish to hurt poor Sigurd?"

"Certainly not, if _you_ are Sigurd," said Philip, half laughing; "I
should be very sorry to hurt you."

"You are _sure_?" he persisted, with a sort of obstinate eagerness. "You
have eyes which tell truths; but there are other things which are truer
than eyes--things in the air, in the grass, in the waves, and they talk
very strangely of you. I know you, of course! I knew you ages ago--long
before I saw you dead on the field of battle, and the black-haired
Valkyrie galloped with you to Valhalla! Yes; I knew you long before
that, and you knew me; for I was your King, and you were my vassal, wild
and rebellious--not the proud, rich Englishman you are to-day."

Errington startled. How could this Sigurd, as he called himself, be
aware of either his wealth or nationality?

The dwarf observed his movement of surprise with a cunning smile.

"Sigurd is wise,--Sigurd is brave! Who shall deceive him? He knows you
well; he will always know you. The old gods teach Sigurd all his
wisdom--the gods of the sea and the wind--the sleepy gods that lie in
the hearts of the flowers--the small spirits that