This table was used for writing evidently, for there were pens lying on it and a human skull used as an inkstand, the fluid being held in the cavities of the eyes.

I had seated myself in a chair and was waiting for some sign from the little old man who had brought me there.

But where was he?
Turning around I looked about me on all sides.

He had left the room during my momentary preoccupation.

I had scarcely seated myself again when a door opened and a venerable man, with snow-white hair and a smooth-shaven face that was pale and wrinkled, walked slowly toward me.