“Please feed Pizarra at six o’clock.”
Then she put down the pen and lent back.
The ruffian behind her picked up the paper.
“What be this ’ere that yer’ve written?” he enquired suspiciously.
“It’s about my dog. I always feed him every day at six o’clock and he will be hungry.”
He grunted, but did not say anything, just walked away with the paper in his hands.
Yolanda looked around.
She realised there was nothing to sit on except the ground or the broken wooden chest, so she sat on the edge of it.
Then she heard the gang talking up above.
To her surprise the chief ruffian came back.
“Have yer got a pin?” he asked. “Us ’as to pin yer note on the ’orse’s saddle and if it ain’t stuck firm yer rich Papa won’t be a-gettin’ it.”
Yolanda had fastened her blouse at the neck with a small
