George Allan England

“ Old Lockwood had insensibly assumed his classroom air, as in the long ago when he had been a lecturer on anthropology at Harvard.
“Supported him in every move,” agreed Veazie. “Quite correct!”
“I am delighted to find a man, sir, who understands something of ethnology and aboriginal history! So few show any intelligent interest in these vital matters. Well, as I was saying, I suppose no African who ever lived—with the possible exception of the terrible Zulu chief Dingaan—was ever so hated and feared as the malicious possessor of this skull. ”

“ The wars for the possession of the skull diminished the population so seriously as to interfere with the slave trade of the Arabs at El Waleji, in what is now the French Sudan. The Arabs took a hand, seized the skull, and put an end to the slaughter that was destroying their commerce.”
“Ah, yes, I remember! They got the skull—yes, yes!”
“After some terrific fighting,” continued Lockwood, laying the grisly relic down on the table. “Once in their hands, they found the trophy a tremendously valuable asset, and carried it on all their slave raids. ”

“ We never realize we're old ourselves till we think of others. We don't seem to change. It's always the others, and—”
“You're distressing yourself with idle fancies,” the professor smiled. “The vital thing is that your daughter is still alive, and that I can find her—and will!”
“Thank Heaven! When, and how?”
“When? I will begin at once.”
“And by what method?” The old man's eagerness might have softened any heart less indurated than Veazie's. “How will you proceed?”
“By establishing rapports with the subliminal planes, using this object that had so vital a part in the affair—this skull. ”