Dwarf

     Dr Goldnojaws was dressed in a sober business suit and despite his size looked every inch the businessman, or at least every inch he possessed. The dwarf’s features were dark and swarthy, almost gipsy-like, and Bond immediately recognised a keen intelligence in his almost black eyes. This was not Dopey he would be dealing with here, nor one of his six brothers. The sight of Goldnojaws had stopped Bond in his tracks. He now looked Goldnojaws up and down, which given his size didn’t take very long and a minimum of eye movement, but enough for Goldnojaws to spot it.
     “Two feet ten,“ he said.
     Bond blinked. “Pardon?”
     “My height. Two feet ten.”
     “I wasn’t…..” Bond started, but Goldnojaws held a hand up as though to prevent any more lies or excuses. “Please. It’s nothing to concern yourself about. I am in no way offended, I’m used to it by now.” He indicated the chair opposite his desk. “Please.”
     Bond sat down, as did Goldnojaws, who then leant forward as though taking Bond into his confidence. “Let me tell you about being a dwarf, Mr Band. In particular let me tell you about what I most dread." He looked keenly at Bond. “What do you think that might be?”
     Bond could think of several things that a dwarf might dread; being rejected by women; being disregarded by his fellow men just because of his size; trying to get a drink at a bar when he was the only man in the pub and the barman was deaf. But Bond was here to listen, to find things out. He wanted Goldnojaws to do the talking not himself, because when people talked they sometimes talked too much and gave things away. So he said: “I’ve no idea.”
     “It is being picked up, Mr Band. Can you imagine how utterly, utterly embarrassing that must be for me? To have someone pick me up, as though I were a child. It happened to me once. I had disembarked from an airplane and had to board a bus to Arrivals. It was a single high step up from the ground to the floor of the bus, maybe a foot. I cold have coped with the situation easily, I had dealt with similar situations many times in the past. The technique is to sit on the step and lift up your legs before swivelling your body round on your bottom, then getting to your feet. But I wasn’t given the chance to do that on the occasion I mention. Before I knew what was happening, before I could protest, the man behind me picked me up and popped me down on the bus. Then he patted me on the head and said ‘There you go, little man.” He paused for effect. “Can you imagine how I felt at that moment, Mr Band?”