had Sweyn stamped near to the fire than clear knocking was heard
at the door. Tyr leapt from the hearth, his eyes red as the fire,
his fangs showing white in the black jowl, his neck ridged and
bristling; and overleaping Rol, ramped at the door, barking
furiously.

Outside the door a clear mellow voice was calling. Tyr's bark made
the words undistinguishable.

No one offered to stir towards the door before Sweyn.

He stalked down the room resolutely, lifted the latch, and swung
back the door.

A white-robed woman glided in.

No wraith! Living--beautiful--young.

Tyr leapt upon her.

Lithely she baulked the sharp fangs with folds of her long fur
robe, and snatching from her girdle a small two-edged axe, whirled
it up for a blow of defence.

Sweyn caught the dog by the collar, and dragged him off yelling
and struggling.

The stranger stood in the doorway motionless, one foot set
forward, one arm flung up, till the house-mistress hurried down
the room; and Sweyn, relinquishing to others the furious Tyr,