"A joy. It was my thought that in the conjunction was done perhaps murder."
"Poot. One overworries. And if death comes to this one, observe, will the money be paid? Of a surety. But this is bizarre."
"Truly bizarre," the girl nodded. Then to make her point, "also curious, unique, unusual. My thought: from what land he comes?"
"The cloth is rare," one of the men said, "observe with tight eyes the object on his wrist. A many-symboled engine—"
"My engine," the girl said positively. She reached down for his watch.
Travis jerked back. "Lay off there," he bawled in English, "you hipless—" The girl recoiled. He could not see her face but her tone was puzzled.
"What language is this? He speaks with liquid."
The larger of the two men arose and came over to him.
"Speak again scourge. But first empty the mouth."
Travis glared at the man's feet, which were wrapped in dirty cloth and smelt like the breezes blowing softly over fresh manure.