 |  |
"Help yourself, Tom," said Hepzibah, "I know how you love my cakes. Now, how are you. You look pale. They overwork you at that shop, I've said it a hundred times. ..." Voldemort smiled mechanically and Hepzibah simpered. .¦,! "Well, what's your excuse for visiting this time." she asked, bat-ring her lashes.
"Mr. Burke would like to make an improved offer for the goblin-made armor," said Voldemort. "Five hundred Galleons, he feels it is a more than fair —" "Now, now, not so fast, or I’ll think you're only here for my trinkets!" pouted Hepzibah.
"I am ordered here because of them," said Voldemort quietly. "I am only a poor assistant, madam, who must do as he is told. Mr. Burke wishes me to inquire —" "Oh, Mr. Burke, phooey!" said Hepzibah, waving a little hand. "I've something to show you that I've never shown Mr. Burke! Can you keep a secret, Tom. Will you promise you won't tell Mr. Burke I've got it. He'd never let me rest if he knew I'd shown it to you, and I'm not selling, not to Burke, not to anyone! But you, Tom, you'll appreciate it for its history, not how many Galleons you can get for it." "I'd be glad to see anything Miss Hepzibah shows me," said Voldemort quietly, and Hepzibah gave another girlish giggle.
"I had Hokey bring it out for me . . . Hokey, where are you. I want to show Mr. Riddle our finest treasure. ... In fact, bring both, while you're at it. ..." "Here, madam," squeaked the house-elf, and Harry saw two leather boxes, one on top of the other, moving across the room as if of their own volition, though he knew the tiny
 |  |
|