The Princess and the Pirate Page #6

I might get to like that kind of thing.

First thing you know, you'll be wanting

to put your arms around me...

and hug me and kiss me, don't you?

No, it wouldn't be fair to those seven girls

who are in love with you.

- I know how they feel.

- You do?

Because of love, I disobeyed my father...

and ran out on a marriage into

one of the noblest royal families of Europe.

Sure. Next thing you'll be telling me

you're a princess or something.

Maybe you're right, Sylvester. Maybe

it is the next thing I'll be telling you.

Maybe it is.

I'd better get you in out of this cold air.

You're breaking up, kid.

Sylvester, we're here.

It's Casarouge. We've made it.

We did? I told you if you'd relax

and leave it to me, I'd get you here.

How do you feel? Have you still

got those butterflies in your stomach?

- Yeah, but now they're wearing roller skates.

- You'll be all right now.

Let's get up on the dock. I need some rest.

- This town looks like a nice, quiet place.

- Help!

So you're still alive?

Hey, stop him!

Stop them, those two men.

Didn't you see that?

They murdered a man

and tossed the body into the water.

- Why don't you do something?

- It's all right. They have a permit.

They have a... My mistake.

For a moment,

I thought they did something illegal.

It's all right. They have a permit.

Nice characters here.

Everybody in town

must be Featherhead's cousin.

We'll find out soon enough. We should be

at the Boar's Head Inn any moment.

Put 'em up.

- Nice morning, isn't it, citizen?

- Yes, it is.

Hey, look, isn't there something

we can do about that?

I wonder what they do around here

for excitement?

- Sylvester, look.

- I can't stand any more.

Look, the Boar's Head Inn.

Featherhead couldn't have been

entirely insane. There is such a place.

Then he must have a cousin.

Featherhead said he'd pay us.

Let's give him this thing, get the money,

and run out of town while we still got legs.

Good morning.

This is the Boar's Head Inn, isn't it?

Spit it out. What's your business?

We're looking for a gentleman

named Pierre Lamonte.

- We've got something for him.

- You're too late.

He left here yesterday,

said he won't be back for a fortnight.

- We can wait till tomorrow.

- Sylvester, a fortnight is two weeks.

Two weeks? How are we going to live?

What are we going to eat?

We're not satisfied with just anything.

You'll have to put us up

in one of your best suites.

We're very particular about our meals.

And I'm very particular

of getting paid for them in advance.

Monsieur Lamonte is supposed

to have money for us.

- Now, perhaps if we could locate him...

- That ain't likely.

Nobody knows where he goes off to.

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