.

She stared at him as if to reassure herself of the direction of his
glance, and then called out "Fire!" The shot rang out clear and sharp;
with it arose a shrill cry of agony, and straight before them, at the
foot of the pillar, lay something which looked like a roll of clothes,
only that by its panting motion it indicated life. Haggerstone sprang
forward, and to his horror discovered the dwarf, Hans Roeckle, who, with
his arm broken, lay actually bathed in blood. With his remaining hand he
clasped the little statue to his bosom, while he muttered to himself the
words "Gerettet! saved! saved!"

While Lady Hester hurried for assistance, Haggerstone bound up the
bleeding vessels with his handkerchief; and in such German as he could
command, asked how the accident had befallen.

A few low muttering sounds were all the dwarf uttered, but he kissed the
little image with a devotion that seemed like insanity. Meanwhile the
colonel's servant, coming up, at once recognized Hans, and exclaimed,
"It is the little fellow of the toy-shop, sir. I told you with what
reluctance he parted with this figure. He must be mad, I think."

The wild looks and eager expressions of the dwarf, as he clutched the
image and pressed it to his heart, seemed to warrant the suspicion; and
Haggerstone thought he could read insanity in every line of the poor
creature's face. To the crowd that instantaneously gathered around the
inn door, and which included many of his friends and acquaintances, Hans
would give no other explanation of the event than that it was a mere
accident; that he was passing, and received the shot by chance; nothing
more.

"Is he not mad, or a fool?" asked Haggerstone of the innkeeper.

"Neither, sir; Hans Roeckle is an old and respected burgher of our town,
and although eccentric and odd in his way, is not wanting for good sense
or good nature."

"Ay! ay!" cried two or three of his townsfolk, to whom the landlord
translated the Colonel's question; "Hans is a kind-hearted fellow, and
if he loves his dolls and wooden images over-much, he never lacks in
affection for living creatures."

While these and such-like observations were making around him, the
dwarf's wounds were being dressed by his friend, Ludwig Kraus, an
operation of considerable pain, that the little fellow bore with heroic
tranquillity. Not a word of complaint, not a syllable of impatience
escaped him; and while from his half-closed lips a low, muttered
excl