They were a ragtag bunch, clothes in ill repair, three of them so skinny she had to wonder if they might not be used to eating on a regular basis. They were unkempt, dirty even, which suggested baths might be as irregular as meals. Their ages could have ranged anywhere from younger than her to her aunts’ age—it was hard to tell under all the filth.
The fourth man was a bit different, at least he had made an effort to look presentable. He was clean, in his mid-twenties, his hair slicked back and long enough to be clubbed at the neck. His clothes were in better repair, too, though they weren’t good quality to begin with. And he didn’t look like he was starving, cut a fine figure, actually. He was also the only one out of the four whowasn’tpointing a pistol at her. Those other three weapons, quickly noted, was why she remained silent for the moment.
She supposed they could be criminals, though if they were, they obviously weren’t very successful at it. Actually, the guns alone suggested they were up to no good. None of them looked like they had worked in a while. All of them looked out of place in such a nice house.
Her surprise was wearing off, in time to note that a couple of the men had shown surprise, too, at her own appearance. It didn’t take long to realize why, though, when they started talking around her, all at once, so it was a bit hard to keep up.
“It be another lady.”
“Is, ain’t it? You thinkin’ wot I’m thinkin’?”
“We can send the other one to collect a ransom for this’n, I’m thinkin’.”
“Was thinking the same thing.”
“Glad we think alike.” This was said with a chuckle. “This could turn into a mighty fine line o’ work, it could.”
“Not to mention, I’m in no hurry to give up that soft bed upstairs.”
“You have the money, lady?”
It was the first remark directed at her. She was still grappling with the notion that they were thinking of keeping her there, if she had understood their meaning correctly. She hadn’t figured out a way to reasonably dissuade them of that notion yet, so a bit of stalling was in order.
“Well, now, I’m not so sure I know what you’re talking about,” she replied, then tried a bluff. “And just what are you doing in my house?”
“Your house? The gent said it were his house.”
“What gent?”
“The one we tossed in the cellar, which is where you’ll be heading if you ain’t got the money.”
“Well, when you put it that way, I’m sure I can come up with some money,” she told the last speaker. “How much did you require?”
“Is she fooling us? You didn’t get a letter that brought you here?”
“A letter? Why, yes, but, well, I broke my glasses this week, and so I wasn’t able to read it. Was it to let me know you apprehended someone breaking into my house? If so, you are to be commended, and indeed are in line for a reward. Is that the money you’re talking about?”
They stared at each other, baffled for a moment, until one of them said, “Lady, just answer yes or no. Do you have forty pounds on you?”
That odd number made a bit of sense now, forty to be divided four ways, yet still a laughable amount. “Why, yes, as a matter of—”
“A simple yes or no!”
“She said yes,” was pointed out.
A frustrated growl. “I heard her, but it weren’t going to be simple.”
“She’s batty,” was said behind her. “Don’t even try to understand her.”
“Just make sure she has the money.”
Her reticule was grabbed from her hand. She objected to that, most indignantly. “Now, see here—”
“It’s empty,” was the next complaint from the grabber. “Now, why would she carry an empty bag?”
“Tol’ you not to try to understand nabobs. They’re all batty.”
Another frustrated growl from her left side. “Where’s the money, lady?”
