'It goes right under the street?' said Sacharissa.
'Looks like it. Must have been allergic to horses.'
'And... er... you can find your way?'
'I'm a dwarf. We are underground. Dwarf. Underground. What was your question again?'
'You're not proposing to hack through to the cellars of the Inquirer, are you?' said Sacharissa.
'Who, us?'
'You are, aren't you.'
'We wouldn't do anything like that.'
'Yes, but you are, aren't you.'
That'd be tantamount to breaking in, wouldn't it?'
'Yes, and that's what you're planning to do, isn't it?'
Boddony grinned. 'Well... a little bit. Just to have a look round. You know.'
'Good.'
'What? You don't mind?'
'You're not going to kill anyone, are you?'
'Miss, we don't do that sort of thing!'
Sacharissa looked a little disappointed. She'd been a respectable young woman for some time. In certain people, that means there's a lot of dammed-up disreputability just waiting to burst out.
'Well... perhaps just make them a bit sorry, then?'
'Yes, we can probably do that.'
The dwarfs were already creeping along the tunnel at the other side of the buried street. By the light of their torches she saw old frontages, bricked-up doors, windows filled with rubble.
This should be about the right place,' said Boddony, pointing to a faint rectangle filled with more low-grade brick.
'You're just going to break in?' said Sacharissa.
'We'll say we were lost,' said Boddony.
'Lost underground? Dwarfs?'
'All right, we'll say we're drunk. People'll believe that. Okay, lads...'
The rotten bricks fell away. Light streamed out. In the cellar beyond a man looked up from his desk, mouth open.
Sacharissa squinted through the dust. 'You?' she said.
'Oh, it's you, miss,' said Cut-Me-Own-Throat Dibbler. 'Hello, boys. Am I glad to see you...'
The crew were just leaving when Gaspode arrived at the gallop. He took one look at the other dogs that were huddled around trie fire, then dived under the trailing folds of Foul Ole Ron's dreadful coat and whined.
It took some time for the whole of the crew to understand what was going on. These were, after all, people who ,'could argue and expectorate and creatively misunderstand their way through a three-hour argument after someone said 'Good morning'.