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Figg?" asked Gay. Mirrors. "You've won your wager. Unlocking it, he entered the chamber, which by no means belied its external appearance. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. He opened it—just off-hand, and then when he saw what it was he hit at the table and sent his soup spoon flying and splashing on to the tablecloth. "If you knew how much importance I attach to your answer," he continued passionately, "you would not refuse me one. She is called Madame Ibstock, you understand. ’ ‘Forgive me, but if that is the case, I don’t quite see why you should run away.
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