stunned by them and gave up, muttering, "I'm floored. Except the
Skeleton with his iron bones and the Schoolmaster, no one till now could
brag of having set his foot on my neck."

"Well, come and drink a glass and you shall know who I am," said the
Unknown. "Come, don't nurse a grudge against me."

"Bear malice? Not a bit of it! You're best man, make no mistake!"

The three, now upon the best terms, directed their steps towards a
tavern. As the Unknown followed his companions a charcoal-seller
approached him and whispered in German, "Be on your guard, _Your
Highness_!" The Unknown waved his hand carelessly and entered the
tavern.

Over their drinks the three related to each other their histories.

The Slasher was a man of tall stature, with light hair and enormous red
whiskers. Notwithstanding his terrible surname his features expressed
rather brutal hardihood and unconquerable boldness, than ferocity. In
his childhood he had strolled about with an old rag and bone picker, who
almost knocked the life out of him. He had never known his parents. His
first employment was to help knockers cut horses' throats at Montfauçon
till cutting and slashing became a rage with him and he was turned out
of the slaughter-house for spoiling the hides. Later he enlisted and
served three years. Then one day the bullying of the sergeant roused the
old rage and he turned on him and cut and slashed as if he had been in
the slaughter-house. That got him fifteen years in the hulks. Now he was
a lighterman on the Seine rafts.