“Said the woman who left for Charles Bassete last night,” Burt winked at Mr. Lewis Hunt. The crowd laughed.

Wednesday fumed. She didn’t even know who Charles Bassette was! Then again…Lady Rathbourg was fictional as well.

“Question,” another reporter held up a pen. Burt smiled and twirled his moustache.

“Fire away,” he said meaningfully at Wednesday, pointing an imaginary gun at her head.

“Is it true that you’ve been spending countless nights at opera houses? It’s been recorded that you never liked opera, you told us yourself in an interview a few years ago. What’s you’re new interest?”

“I have always had a passion for the Italian opera, my friend.” Burtininkas lied unerringly, acting almost embarrassed. “If you must know, I covered it up so my friends wouldn’t find out.”

Wednesday Thomas clenched her delicate jaw. Filthy liar, she thought.

“What friends?” she guffawed, waving at the cameras. Bulbs flashed, and the crowd laughed. “Burt one, Me one,” she growled.