to have seen in a museum of monstrosities in Sydney, where, if my memory serves me, he was described upon the catalogue as a Burmese monkey-boy. He was chained to the wall in somewhat the same fashion as we had been, and was chattering and scratching for all the world like a monkey in a Zoo.
But, horrible as these things were, the greatest surprise of all was yet to come. For, standing at the heavy oaken table in the centre of the room, was a man I should have known anywhere if I had been permitted half a glance at him. It was Dr. Nikola.
When we entered he was busily occupied with a scalpel, dissecting an animal strangely resembling a monkey. On the table, and watching the work upon which his master was engaged, sat his constant companion, the same fiendish black cat I have mentioned on a previous occasion. While at the end nearest us, on tip-toe, in order to see what was going on, stood an albino dwarf, scarcely more than two feet eight inches high.
Now, though it has necessarily taken me some time to describe the scene which greeted our eyes, it must not be supposed that anything like the same length of time had really elapsed. Three seconds at the very most would have sufficed to cover the whole period.
So stealthily, however, had our approach been made, and so carefully had I opened the door, that we were well into the room before our appearance was discovered, and also before I had realised into whose presence we had stumbled. Then my foot touched upon a board that creaked, and Dr. Nikola looked up from the work upon which he was engaged.
His pale, thin face did not show the slightest sign of surprise as he said, in his usual placid tone:
