James Figg was the most perfect master of self-defence of his day. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. With something near to horror they found themselves thus confronted. Ruth was not a woman; she was a phenomenon. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. She was never violent when angry: she became as calm and baffling as the sea in doldrums. “You’re exactly as I remember you!” “Forever fifteen, remember?” She stepped closer to him into the light of the television screen. However, I daresay that we shall come across one another before long. “Useless—worse than useless. “Why not? It might amuse me.
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