The Brownie officers held a brief, whispered consultation. Then the boatswain addressed Tigrina.
"Old woman, we shall exchange few words with you. You know well that your life in ordinary circumstances wouldn't be worth a salt herring. But you've just one chance for it. I have lost a daughter. She was carried off with one of her companions by some of your people. We have found no trace of the maidens yet. If you can tell anything that shall lead to their discovery, your life shall be spared. If not, you die instantly."
Tigrina sat with eyes fixed upon the ground. Her face had a stubborn cast that showed indifference to life, or determination to yield nothing for the sake of saving it. She remained silent.
"Well," continued the boatswain, "have you nothing to say? Do you know anything? Speak out. You shall find us true to our word, as Brownies always are."
"For Heaven's sake," cried Blythe impatiently, "if you can put us on the track of our lost friends, do so! You shall not only have your life, but whatever besides—"
"Hah! What interest have you in the silly things?" asked Tigrina looking up quickly. Her whole manner had changed at the first sound of his voice. Her eyes dropped slowly from the Adjutant's face to the flute which he still held in his hands, and there remained fixed.
"I have a deep and tender interest in one of them," exclaimed Blythe. "And I pledge you my word, with the boatswain, to stand between you and death if you will tell us where we can find Faith and Sophia."
There was a moment's silence, so profound that one might almost have heard his neighbor's heart beat as the Brownies awaited the Pixinee's answer. The fate of their beloved Nurses seemed to hang upon her lips. Tigrina at last broke the silence:
"You will give me my life?" she said.
"Yes!" cried a score of eager voices.