“He is a dwarf,” said another.
“Has nobody seen him, then?” put in a voice.
“Those who see him for the first time, see him for the last time also.”
“Hush!” said old Olly; “they say there are but three persons who ever exchanged human speech with him,—that reprobate of a Spiagudry, Widow Stadt, and—but he had a sad life and a sad death—that poor Gill, who lies yonder. Hush!”
“Hush!” was repeated on all sides.
“Now,” suddenly exclaimed the soldier, “I am sure that this is indeed Captain Dispolsen. I recognize the steel chain which our prisoner, old Schumacker, gave him when he went away.”
The young man with the black plume broke the silence abruptly: “Are you sure it is Captain Dispolsen?”
“Sure, by the merits of Saint Beelzebub!” said the soldier.
The young man left the room hurriedly.
“Get me a boat for Munkholm,” he said to his servant.