Travis caught her meaning. He swore feebly.
"It was very nearly let dry," the girl said. "But solutions conjoined. It was noted at the last, even as the blade descended, that such friends as yours could no doubt barter for Mertian coin, untraceable, thus restoring your value."
"Clever, clever. Oh, clever," Travis said drily.
To his surprise, the girl blushed.
"Overgracious. Overkind. Speed thanks awry of this windy head, aim at yon Lappy"—she indicated the boy who stood smiling shyly behind her—"it was he who thought you alive, he my brother."
"Ah," Travis said. "Well, bless you, boy." He nodded at the boy, who very nearly collapsed with embarrassment. Travis wondered about this 'brother' bit. Brother in crime? The Langkit did not clarify. But the girl turned back on him a smile as glowing as a tiny nova. He gazed cheerfully back.
"Tude and the others sit now composing your note. A matter of weight, confounded in darkness." She lowered her eyes becomingly. "Few of us," she apologized, "have facility in letters."
"A ransom note," Travis growled. "Great Gods and Little—Tude? Who is Tude?"
"The large man who, admittedly hastening before the horse, did plant pain in your head."
"Ah," Travis said, smiling grimly. "We shall presently plow his field—"