His anger gave way to grim humour and he thrust towards them, leaning heavily on his cane. "Is your person in danger?" "Not from my creditors," replied Wood, significantly. "I should like to meet the man who would dare to gainsay it. You have a daughter, no? Madame Ibstock, I think. James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. Outside in the hall he paused and thoughtfully stroked his smooth blue chin. The features were indistinct, but was that not a halo of white about it? And the dark shadow below, was that a cloak, or the habit of a nun? Skirting the dancing, from which he had taken a breather—not from lack of energy, but to escape the inanities of the young ladies he had partnered—Gerald made his way to a side door in the saloon and opened it.
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