H. Bedford-Jones

“ He had managed to make every one believe that this house was haunted. He had once or twice attempted your brother's life—"
"But why?" broke in the girl, astounded. "Whatever made the man act so? Was he mad?"
"Not a bit of it! He was sane. He was also well educated. But—mark this—he was not a white man; he was a half-breed Indian, and he was the last of the Indian chiefs in this particular valley. He had all the Indian's sense of outrage at seeing the skulls of his forefathers ornamenting this house. ”

“ But the sheriff and another man were hunting, and they saw Talkso deliberately ambush my car! It was assault with intent to kill, right enough, and it meant the coop for Mr. Talkso."
"But that wall you were building!" exclaimed Martha Balliol.
"That's the sheriff's idea: our sheriff is a bright man," I returned, laughing. "The skulls, you note, are now buried completely, yet the foundation of the house is not damaged. Thus the feelings of John Talkso have been smoothed over, particularly as he faced the penitentiary if they were not smoothed over! ”

“ Talkso left these things behind—and he's not coming back."
Her face sobered.
"What do you mean. Mr. Desmond?"
"Well," I explained, "this Talkso was an educated chap. He knew what a pterodactyl was, you see—and he knew that other men knew! Then he left some other things. Typical of them was a set of of twelve pieces of round, crimson glass: these, placed in the eyes of those skulls, made a fine crimson effect when seen from the lake. You get the idea?"
Her eyes widened.
"Talkso? That man? ”