"To be sure!" exclaimed the dwarf, gazing at him fixedly; "you are——" and he stopped.
"You have been thrown into the water, Master Flapdragon?" cried a bystander, noticing the cord round the dwarf's throat.
"I have," replied the little old man.
"By your governor—that is, by this person?" cried another, laying hold of Auriol.
"By him—no," said the dwarf; "I have not seen that gentleman for nearly three centuries."
"Three centuries, my little patriarch?" said the man who had given him the brandy. "That's a long time. Think again."
"It's perfectly true, nevertheless," replied the dwarf.
"His wits have been washed away by the water," said the first speaker. "Give him a drop more brandy."
"Not a bit of it," rejoined the dwarf; "my senses were never clearer than at this moment. At last we have met," he continued, addressing Auriol, "and I hope we shall not speedily part again. We hold life by the same tie."
"How came you in the desperate condition in which I found you?" demanded Auriol evasively.