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Show never seen it. But a thief will know a thief, and when Hoqqam and she locked eyes, he knew she'd lifted it as well as he knew his name was Hoqqam. "I couldno' have lasted, fair sir," panted the stumbling Armand, "withou' tha' las' drink from y'r own poor purse." "Aye, aye," muttered Hoqqam who regretted not having ended the doddering fool's life with a clout on the head upon finding him bereft of his bulging riches. He'd knocked him as though by accident-as he'd planned-into the walkway behind the alehouse as soon as the street was free of passersby, and felt of his pockets upon pretending to give him aid on getting to his feet. "Ye be missing thy purse, fair sir," Hoqqam said quietly, holding him down and brushing him off across the back most carefully. "Here, here, ye be fair dusty," he said, feeling of his back legging pockets. "Purse? Purse?" cried Armand, alarmed. Hoqqam rolled him over and began a thorough brushing of his front. "Aye, fair sir," he muttered, panting with haste, for he'd needs tap him quick by then for to make away in safety. Aye, but where in Ida's name was the purse? "I left it!" Armand cried. "A curse be on my head, left I the thing on the bar just i n s i d e . . . !" Hoqqam, leaning over the man, looked in his face for a little, then said with barely concealed disgust: "Ye left thy purse on the alehouse bar, fair sir?" "Aye, aye! We must needs run and get it afore..." "Aye, indeed," said Hoqqam, scrambling up and yanking the fat man to 115 |