‘Beg pardon, miss, but I’m told as how—’ She broke off, her eyes widening, her jaw dropping open. Friday was not a big dinner night at the Beck house. This formidable person, who was no other than the renowned Figg, the "Atlas of the sword," as he is termed by Captain Godfrey, had removed his hat and "skull covering," and was wiping the heat from his bepatched and closeshaven pate. Jack fell on his knees beside her. And from that they came back by way of the Kreutzer Sonata and Resurrection to Tolstoy again.
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