James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. Sheppard, as a storm of furious voices resounded from below, and torches were seen mounting the stairs; "they are coming!—they are coming!—fly!—to the roof! to the roof. Why hadn't he admitted that he recognized the photograph? What instinct had impelled him swiftly to assume his Oriental mask? "Why?" asked O'Higgins. ‘Where’s the sense in running away?’ ‘Doesn’t trust me,’ Gerald said briefly. ’ Such simple faith touched Gerald.
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