I jumped from my seat. As though he were suddenly attacked, the old man straightened up. A flash came to his eye and a sternness came upon him that was unexpected. I think if I had taken another step he would have showed fight. “But the dagger is not for you,” I cried. “It’s only a sign that we are no frauds, no imposters.” I reached out to take the weapon from his hand. He swung around with the quickness of an eel and backed away from me. I made another try. This time he shot a look at me and raised the dagger as though he would strike. My blood was up. All in all I felt that he was not what the Dwarf had represented him to be, so with the single thought of getting my dagger back at any cost, I made a lunge to grasp him by the arm. Then by sheer strength I could wrest it from his grasp. “Back!” His voice was shrill but strong with the cackle entirely gone. “Back! I’ll kill you if you make a move!” He drew his arm far over his head. There was wickedness in his eyes that told me he meant all that he said. For a second I stood there irresolute. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw Charles flit past me. His arm shot out. It caught the old fellow by the wrist. With one jerk his fingers opened. The dagger dropped clattering to the floor. One bound, I had it in my hand and in the next second it was tucked away in my shirt. Then came a surprise. As though the affair was a joke the old man leaned over and clapped himself time and time again on the knee. His voice rose and fell in a kind of whistling laugh. He coughed and sputtered from sheer mirth and to cap it all reached out his hand for me to shake. “A fine lad!” he exclaimed. “The both of you are fine lads. I know now there’s no deceit in either of you.” He laughed again. The cackling grew stronger than ever. “What is it you say you want? A guide to take you on your way? Ay, ay. A guide. But no harm meant, mind you. No harm—” He shuffled, bent over, towards the door, where he stood for a minute looking back at us. Then with a quick nervous snap he jerked out, “I’ll aid you all I can. Will you stay here till I come back?” With a kind of a stumbling skip he was outside and had closed the door behind him. We sat and waited till the shuffling of his feet died away on the road. Then we arose and walked about the room, more from restlessness, I am sure, than from curiosity. If it had not been for the advice of the Dwarf, I should have said that we were fallen into the thieves’ den. The place was in no sense an inn for there was no sign of provision for the comfort or entertainment of a guest. Besides it was too far removed from the course of travel to be of any profit. “I don’t like the looks of it,” remarked Charles. “There have been knives flying here—and throats cut. That smear on the wall is hardly dry.” “We ought to get out,” I said. “We were safer in the Dwarf’s cave.” “Let us wait till the old rat returns,” he answered. “There will be time then.”