"How comes it, then, that more than a year ago you told something
concerning him which made Egil Olafsson his mortal foe?"

Out of the darkness came a sudden cackling laugh. "That is true. I told
the Black One that the maiden he loved would love an English thrall
instead. And he wished to stick his sword through me!"

"Is that what you told him?" cried Alwin, in amazement.

Sigurd echoed the cry. Yet as their minds ran back over Egil's strange
actions, they could not doubt that this was the key that unlocked their
mystery.

From an invisible corner came a stir, a creak, and then the sound of
feet lighting softly on the floor. A tiny figure appeared on the edge of
the shadows beyond the dying fire. The light fell upon furry gray feet;
and Alwin's first thought was that a monstrous cat had dropped down.
Then the flames leaped higher, and showed a furry cloak and a furry
hood, and from its fuzzy depths protruding, a sharp yellow beak for a
nose, and a hairy yellow peak for a chin. Of eyes, one saw nothing at
all.

Out of the fuzzy depths came a lisping voice. "When a thrall of Leif
Ericsson, who is also a Christian, thinks it worth while to risk his
life and his soul to consult me, I forgive it that I am wakened at
midnight. It is a compliment to my powers that I do not take ill. Say
what you wish to learn from me."

Alwin felt Sigurd touch him reproachfully, and shame burned in his
cheeks; but he had gone too far to retreat. He said bluntly: "I wish to