Like his companion, he presented a miserable appearance.

His clothes, if clothes they could be called, were in rags, his hair was long and snowy white, matching his beard, which descended to within a few inches of his waist.

His eyes were closed, and for a moment Grantham thought he was dead.

This was not the case, however, for upon his companion approaching him he held out his hand and inquired whether he had discovered the man who had fired the shot?
To Grantham's surprise the other made no reply in words, but, taking his friend's hand he made some mysterious movements upon it with his fingers, whereupon the latter raised himself to a sitting position.
"My friend tells me that you are an Englishman," he said in a voice that shook with emotion.

"I'm glad we have found you.