Ginger alone remained. During the whole of this strange scene, he had stood with the bottle in hand, transfixed with terror and astonishment, and wholly unable to move or cry out. A climax was put to his fright, by the descent of the three chairs, with their occupants, through the floor into a vault beneath; and as the helmets were whisked up again to the ceiling, and the trap-doors closed upon the chairs, he dropped the bottle, and fell with his face upon the table. He was, however, soon roused by a pull at his hair, while a shrill voice called him by his name.
"Who is it?" groaned the dog-fancier.
"Look up!" cried the speaker, again plucking his hair.
Ginger complied, and beheld the monkey seated beside him.
"Vy, it can't be, surely," he cried. "And yet I could almost svear it was Old Parr."
"You're near the mark," replied the other, with a shrill laugh. "It is your venerable friend."
"Vot the deuce are you doing here, and in this dress, or rayther undress?" inquired Ginger. "Ven I see you this mornin', you wos in the serwice of Mr. Loftus."
"I've got a new master since then," replied the dwarf.
"I'm sorry to hear it," said Ginger, shaking his head. "You haven't sold yourself, like Doctor Forster—eh?"
"Faustus, my dear Ginger—not Forster," corrected Old Parr. "No, no, I've made no bargain. And to be plain with you, I've no desire to remain long in my present master's service."