"You’re Milgrim, then. Been hearing a lot about you. I’m Garreth. Wilson. Forgive my not getting up. Leg’s buggered. Keeping it elevated." He was propped against pillows and the wall, between what Milgrim at first took to be the tusks of a mammoth, twin weathered gray church-window parentheses. An open laptop beside him. One of his black-trousered legs up on three additional pillows. Above him, suspended, the largest birdcage Milgrim had ever seen, filled, it seemed, with stacked books and fairy floodlights.