'Don't be like that, William,' said Sacharissa. 'It's because of that, you see, Ronnie, that we've come to you.'
'Really?' Carney smiled. 'You have been a bit of a silly girl, haven't you... ?'
'Yes, er... well, all our money was...' Sacharissa sniffed. 'The fact is... well, we've just got nothing now. We... worked so hard, so hard, and now it's all gone...' She started to sob.
Ronnie Carney leaned over the desk and patted her hand.
'Is there anything I can do?' he said.
'Well, I did hope... I wondered if... I mean, d'you think you could see your way clear to... letting us use one of your presses tonight?'
Carney rocked back. 'You what? Are you mad?'
Sacharissa blew her nose. 'Yes, I thought you'd probably say that,' she said sadly.
Carney, slightly mollified, leaned forward and patted her hand again. 'I know we used to play together when we were children--' he began.
'I don't think we actually played,' said Sacharissa, fishing in her handbag. 'You used to chase me and I used to hit you over the head with a wooden cow. Ah, here it is...' She dropped the bag, stood up and aimed one of the late Mr Pin's pistol bows straight at the editor.
'Let us use your "ing" presses or I'll "ing" shoot your "ing" head "ing" off!' she screamed. 'I think that's how you're supposed to say it, isn't it?'
'You wouldn't dare pull that trigger!' said Carney, trying to crouch in his chair.
'It was a lovely cow, and one day I hit you so hard one of the legs broke off,' said Sacharissa dreamily.
Carney looked imploringly at William. 'Can't you talk some sense into her?' he said.
'We just need the loan of one of your presses for an hour or so, Mr Carney,' said William, while Sacharissa kept the barrel of the bow aimed at the man's nose with what he judged to be a very strange smile on her face. 'And then we'll be gone.'
'What are you going to do?' said Carney hoarsely.
'Well, firstly I'm going to tie you up,' said William.
'No! I'll call the overseers!'
'I think they're... busy at the moment,' said Sacharissa.
Carney listened. It seemed unusually quiet downstairs.
He sagged.
The printing staff of the Inquirer were in a ring around Goodmountain.
'Right, lads,' said the dwarf, 'here's how it works. Every man who goes home early tonight 'cos of a headache gets a hundred dollars, all right? It's an old Klatchian custom.'
'And what happens if we don't go?' said the foreman, picking up a mallet.
'Veil,' said a voice by his ear, 'that's ven you get a... headache,'
There was a flash of lightning and a roll of thunder. Otto punched the air triumphantly.
'Yes!' he shouted, as the printers ran madly towards the doors. 'Ven you really, really need it, zere it is! Let's try vunce more... Castle!' The thunder rolled again. The vampire jumped up and down excitedly, vest tails flying. 'Vow! Now ve are cooking! Vunce more mit feelink! Vot a big... castle...' The thunder was even louder this time.
Otto did a little jig, beside himself with joy, tears running down his grey face.
'Music viz Rocks In!' he yelled.
In the silence after the thunder roll William pulled a velvet bag from his pocket and tipped it out on to the desk blotter.