I saw the body fall and the head fly up with a shriek to the roof. When I came to myself I found I was sitting on the low wall of the school. I was very cold and wet, and I got up to go home. As I rose I saw lying on the pavement at my feet what appeared to be a small football. I gave it a vicious kick, when to my horror it turned over and I saw it was a skull. It was gnashing its teeth and moaning. Then with a shriek it flew up in the air and vanished. A horrible thing. Then I knew the worst. The skull of the monk Neville de Beauchamp had attached itself to me for life, I being the last of the race. Since then it is almost always with me."
"Where is it now?" I said, shuddering.
"Not very far away, you bet," he said.
"It's a most unpleasant tale," I said. "Good night, I'm off to bed after that."
I was in my first sleep about an hour afterwards, when a knock came at my door, and the valet came in.
"Sorry to disturb you, sir," he said, "but the skull has just come back. It's in the next room. Would you like to see it?"
"Certainly not," I roared. "Get away and let me go to sleep."
Then and there I firmly resolved to leave next morning. I hated skulls, and I fancied that probably it might take a fancy to me, and I had no desire to be followed about the country by a skull as if it was a fox terrier.
Next morning I went in to breakfast. "Where is that beastly skull?" I said to Allan.
"Oh, it's off again somewhere. Heaven knows where; but I have had another vision, a waking vision."
"What was it!"
"Well," said Allan, "I saw the skull and a white hand which seemed to beckon to me beside it. Then they slowly receded and in their place was what looked like a big sheet of paper. On it in large letters were the words—Your friend, Jack Weston, is dead. This morning I got this wire telling me of his sudden death. Read it."
That afternoon I left the Highlands and Allan Beauchamp.
