“Yes,” Twigg said from the opposite side of the counter. “I buy and sell firearms as well as make them.” In his mid-forties, John Fox Twigg was among London’s most celebrated gunsmiths, respected by his peers and sought out by hunters the length and breadth of England. Bess had called into his Piccadilly workshop after a tour of all the gunsmiths in the city.
“Robert Wogdon recommended that I try you, Mr Twigg.” Wogdon was one of London’s finest pistol makers, and Bess was never averse to name-dropping.
“Robert is rightly famed for his duelling pistols,” Twigg informed her. “But perhaps not as well informed in colonial long arms. May I?” He took the rifle from Bess and stroked it almost sensually.
“This is a lovely example of a Pennsylvanian rifle,” Twigg said. “You’ll note the exceptio
