I can wield a quarterstaff as well as a prize-fighter, and have beaten Figg himself at the broadsword. "Ay. She screamed as she saw that their throats had been ripped out and their dead eyes bulged with horror as their heads lolled from mere strings of sinew and flesh. This was the body of a man, apparently lifeless, and stretched upon a mattress, with his head bound up in a linen cloth, through which the blood had oosed. ” She picked at her sandwich idly. I don't know whose brainless head it may be, but it'll do for my collection.
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