We turned. Before us stood a man so small that he might be taken for a dwarf. His head was so large that it was remarkable, and the way it rolled from side to side caused me a certain uneasiness. His eyes were the size of two peas, but they twinkled with a kind of knowing wisdom that continually forced you to look away and in the next moment to return and gaze at him again. A smile covered his mouth, but it was a smile that never changed. You could not tell whether it came from amusement or whether mockery lay behind it. We had hardly caught our breath when he shifted over to us. It was then that I noticed for the first time that his legs were bent in an arch like a bow. They seemed very thin, scarcely able to support the weight of his thick body. He took off his cap and drew his head in between his shoulders like a turtle. “I have been on the look-out for you the last three days,” he said. “Where have you been?” I said not a word but glanced at Charles. “Who are you?” he gasped, “—friend or enemy?” “I am the Dwarf of Angers,” was the reply. He hesitated. The smile broadened into a wicked grin. “If I were your enemy,” he went on, “you would have been dead long before this.” “You say you have been expecting us——,” I began, but he broke in and interrupted me. “You are a friend of the Abbot of Chalonnes,” he said in the most matter of fact way. “He heard that you were threatened with danger. I came to see you through.” I drew back in surprise. My first impulse was to tell him that I had never seen the Abbot of Chalonnes in my life. On second thought, I decided to let him believe as he would. “We are surrounded by at least a score of men,” I said with some caution. “They are French—followers of a man by the name of De Marsac. The three of us can hardly make a stand against them. They are too many.” A little cackle of laughter broke from him. He went to the corner of the room where a basket stood. He took from it an apple that was as large as your fist. He stretched out his hand and laid the apple between the middle finger and the forefinger. He extended his arm to full length and slowly drew his fingers together. There came a crushing sound. Then with as much force as if it were struck by a hammer the apple flew apart. One half of it shot over against the wall and the other dropped a little distance from his feet. My mouth opened in amazement. Such a feat of strength I never believed possible. “There has never lived a man with hands and arms like these,” he said. “Nature gave me a misshapen body. But she made up for it in another way.” He jumped back and turned to the wall. With a leap as quick as lightning he came towards us, turning one somersault after the other. Not once did his hands touch the floor nor, when he came to a halt, did he draw a single breath that gave a sign of fatigue.