"Just walk out to that spot of moonlight," he whispered. "I'll keep
guard on the door. Feel around there and tell me what you think of it."
I did as he directed. I walked forward to the spot and felt around with
my hands. My fingers came in contact with round, smooth objects that
filled every available inch of a stone table in front of me, and with a
feeling of revulsion I hurried back to the mouth of the corridor. Holman
gripped my arm and put a question.
"Gave you a shock, eh?"
"Why, they're skulls!" I breathed hoarsely.
"Yes, hundreds of 'em," he said. "The place is chock full of them. This
island must have been the burying ground of all the adjoining groups,
and it's the atmosphere of the place that keeps the niggers away from
it. Leith has been wise to that. The present generation of islanders
know nothing of the things that happened here hundreds of years back,
but they've got an inborn horror of the place, and they keep away."
"Well, what are we to do?"
"Wait here."
"But if he doesn't come this way?"
"He must," he answered. "It's the only way out, I think.
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