Through an open door was a glimpse of the bathroom—a vision of luxury, out of which Annabel herself, in a wonderful dressing-gown and followed by a maid presently appeared. 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. "Good night. ” “Lady Ferringhall! Anna!” he exclaimed. ” Cathy insisted. The watcher's intake of breath was sibilant. Without preamble, in a voice of extreme exasperation, he demanded, ‘Now what the devil’s to do? What in God’s name do you mean by sending Gerald such a ridiculous letter? Never read anything half as crazy. Wood, leaping from the bed. And don't neglect my instructions this time. Wild never was the associate of thieves. She had not felt comfortable in his presence from the first, and with Leonardo’s precepts in mind, was loath to trust him. We’re going in.
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