where she was taken. I expect she’ll be okay. From what I
hear it’s a well-run, sober, clean place.”
Mudge put a consoling paw on Jon-Tom’s arm. “See,
mate? Tis all worked out for the best.”
“Yes,” growled Roseroar. “Let’s get on with this quest
of yours, Jon-Tom. The girl’s in the kind of place best
suited to he I pin’ her.”
Jon-Tom listened to all of them, surprised Jalwar by
asking for his opinion.
“Since you request the thoughts of a humble servant, I
have to say that I agree with your friends. Undoubtedly the
young woman is now among those her own age, being
cared for by those whose business it is to succor such
unfortunates. We should be about our business.”
Jon-Tom nodded. “You’re probably right, Jalwar.” He
looked at Mudge and Roseroar. “You’re probably all
right.” He eyed the senior of the two cops. “You’re sure
this is a decent place?”
“The streets of Snarken are full of homeless youth. We
bag ’em all the time. So there are many orphanages. Some
are supported by taxes, others are private. If I remember
aright, the Friends of the Street are among the private
organizations.”
“Okay, okay,” Jon-Tom grumbled, out-reasoned as well
as outvoted.
“So when do we leave, mate?”
“Tomorrow morning, I suppose, if you think you can
lay in enough supplies by tonight.”
“Cor, can a fish fry? Leave ‘er to me, mate. You and
the cat-mountain and the old bugger get yourselves back to
the inn. Relax and suck in the last o’ the sea air. Leave
everythin’ to ol’ Mudge.”
Jon-Tom did so, and was rewarded that evening by the
sight of not one but two large, comfortable wagons tied up