“This ain’t a man, this be a fancy mort. ’E said as ’ow it’d be a Lord.”
“I knows,” another man replied, “and ’e says if ’is Lordship struggles to konk ’im one on the ’ead. What we do now ’tis a female?”
“Help!” Druscilla managed to cry. “Help! There has been – some mistake.”
Her voice sounded weak and far away through the confines of the sack.
“Shall I ’it ’er?” one of the men asked and suddenly she was silent.
“I don’t know. ’Er be very small, you might kill ’er,” the other man answered.
Druscilla could feel the closeness of his body and suddenly she realised the appalling danger that she was in and fell silent.
“’Er ain’t a-strugglin’ now,” the first man said, “perhaps she’s fainted.”
“’Er can’t be dead?” the other man asked in frightened tones. “You were rough. I weren’t expect
