Baffled, he went hurriedly on with his own questionings. Was this lady safe? Again the nod and murmur of assent. Did she want help? Vehement the confirmation. He repeated, with careful emphasis, "I will reward you well for your help," and this time the direct simplicity of her reply was entirely intelligible:
"How much?"
"One pound.... Two," he added, as she shook her head.
"Four," she demanded.
It was maddening to haggle, but it would be worse to yield.
"Two—and this," said Billy, drawing out the gold and some silver with it.
She gave a frightened upward glance at the windows over them and stepped closer. "I take it," she said. "Listen—" and that was all that Billy could understand of the swift words she whispered to him.
"Slower—slower," he begged. "Once more—slower."
She frowned, and then, very slowly and distinctly, she articulated, "T'âla lil genaina ... 'end eltura."
He wrote down what he thought it sounded like. "Go on."