Maybe it could tell him that, with a little more investigation. In the past week, Gabe had been doing a little casual experimentation with the sort of paranoid lock-making and -picking spells he hadn't really messed about with since his halcyon schooldays, when property had been considered entirely fungible and a ward was little better than an invitation. It had been a long time ago, though. He was a bit rusty.
Consideration of that was postponed by the arrival of a sentence that seemed circuitous even for William. Gabe honestly tried to figure it out for himself for at least thirty seconds before giving up and saying, "What?"