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It
was
Albert
all
right
.
Mort
caught
several
references
to
fried
bread
.
’
Let
’
s
have
a
look
at
what
he
’
s
doing
now
,
’
said
Ysabell
.
’
Do
you
think
we
should
?
It
’
s
a
bit
like
spying
.
’
’
So
what
?
Scared
?
’
’
All
right
.
’
He
flicked
through
until
he
came
to
the
unfilled
pages
,
and
then
turned
back
until
he
found
the
story
of
Albert
’
s
life
,
crawling
across
the
page
at
surprising
speed
considering
it
was
the
middle
of
the
night
;
most
biographies
didn
’
t
have
much
to
say
about
sleep
,
unless
the
dreams
were
particularly
vivid
.
’
Hold
the
candle
properly
,
will
you
?
I
don
’
t
want
to
get
grease
on
his
life
.
’
’
Why
not
?
He
likes
grease
.
’
’
Stop
giggling
,
you
’
ll
have
us
both
off
.
Now
look
at
this
bit
.
.
.
.
—
’
He
crept
through
the
dusty
darkness
of
the
Stack
—
’
Ysabell
read
–
’
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
tiny
glow
of
candlelight
high
above
.
Prying
,
he
thought
,
poking
away
at
things
that
shouldn
’
t
concern
them
,
the
little
devils
’
—
