“And you, sir?’
“The wizard coughed apologetically. ‘I have a small purse, sirrah, of great value to me—not, as it happens, for its intrinsic worth, the which is small, but for its value relative to my present state of wealth, the which is meager. This, however, I cede to you—for, in truth, I am a philosophe, and as such my desire for worldly possessions is faint at all times and subject, moreover, to sudden change; such a change, I might add, as the one which has this very moment o’ertaken me.’ He handed over his purse. ‘You may also,’ he continued, placing his hand upon the dwarf’s quivering brow, ‘take my apprentice to be your servant—and I will aver, sirrah, that though he is stupid and malformed, my apprentice is capable of carrying great burdens and suffering much deprivation as well, docilely and without excessive complaint.’ Again, the apologetic cough; a slight straightening of the shoulders. ‘Do not, however, I pray thee, take these my scrolls and tablets, nor these my tomes and talismans, nor these my artifacts and relics; for these are my very life and soul, without which I should be as a man lost on a chip in an endless ocean.’
“The highwayman spat fiercely upon the ground. ‘A pox on your sheepskins and toys, pedant—products of an unenlightened age! And as for this, your supposed servant—though more likely, judging from his appearance, some evil imp retrieved from a dank and moldy place—I am more moved to skewer him with my rapier, thereby cleansing the earth of one of the many blots upon its surface. But, I will satisfy myself with your purse;’ he snatched said object from the wizard’s grasp.
“But then—most unexpected! The wretched gnome hopped forward and kicked the robber’s shin. Then—kicked it again, and yet again! ‘Just you try it!’ he shrilled. ‘You just try and stick me with that big knife! I have friends! Snarls, they are—and big ones—and one of them’s huge! They’ll eat you right up when they find out!’
“I was absolutely astonished—first, at the dwarf’s unlikely humor; but then—and more so—at the robber’s response; for though Rascogne had drawn his blade, and I imagined the apprentice already buried, he stopped; frowned—for the first time a look of something other than utter surety on his face; then—’Snarls?’ he demanded. ‘You—a snarl-friend?’ ‘Well, I am, too!’ insisted the dwarf. ‘Tell him, master!’
” ‘Most strange,’ muttered the highwayman. He snapped his fingers at the wizard—’Is this true, what he says?’
” ‘As to that,’ responded the mage, ‘the snarls did seem preoccupied with him—’
” ‘The big one licked my face!’ cried the dwarf.
” ‘—but I do not think, at least, judging by the literature—’
” ‘Enough!’ interrupted Rascogne. ‘I did not ask for a lecture. Still, ’tis odd, most odd.’ He inspected the dwarf closely, frowning all the while; then—’I shall have to think on this,’ he announced. Suddenly, his face cleared. ‘Ah—but I forget me! Business first! And my business is not finished.’ And with that he turned and sprang over to the side of Il Conde, hand outstretched again.
“Il Conde peered up at him, leaning his frail weight upon his cane. ‘You are a scoundrel, I believe,’ he whined. ‘People think I am nothing but an old fool, who can’t see his nose in front of his face; but I have been watching you, sirrah, watching you carefully, and it is my firm conviction that you have, very recently in fact, taken liberties with my wife. Five times, if I am not mistaken.’ The highwayman grinned impudently. ‘Alas,’ here Il Conde shook his ancient head, ‘I am an old man, feeble in my limbs; I can assure you, sirrah, were I but fifty years younger you would be in a fine kettle of fish—be sure of it! But, as it is—’
“Grumbling, Il Conde brought forth his purse with a trembling hand, veined and liver-spotted with age. The purse was quite large; Rascogne smiled broadly as he emptied its contents into his hand. ‘Quite a catch, here!’ he cried. ‘Doubloons! Dinars! Drachmas! Shekels! Every manner and variety of fine coin! And—but what’s this?’ He gazed with puzzlement at a small coin, whose worn and shabby surface contrasted sharply with its gleaming fellows. Il Conde peered more closely; suddenly—his entire body became rigid; his rheumy eyes gaped wide. ‘My Ruiz!’ he gasped, reaching forth to retrieve it from the robber’s hand. Rascogne laughed and sprang backward. ‘Aha! The octogenarian seeks to regain his lost treasure! Nay, nay, not so, graybeard! Paltry though it is, this little coin as well must join my booty!’