What's it like, Joan?" "It's a small key, with curiously-fashioned wards. Of all crafts,—and it was the only craft his poor father, who, to do him justice, was one of the best workmen that ever handled a saw or drove a nail, could never understand,—of all crafts, I say, to be an honest man is the master-craft. I barely prevailed sometimes, but in the end, my wits were faster than their steel. Then a surge of rage welled up. Fritz and Anna had been her wards for over two years! Sebastian stood in the corner, laughing silently at the fighting women. She recognized the face but could not quite place it.
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