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THE LOST TRUMPET
6l
may be no musician, but he has the understanding;
heart.”
“Well, well. Then I guess Colonel Saloney’ll fix
you up about pay and so forth later. We start in
two days’ time.”
The Khalig was alive with hasting lights. Night
had come. The doorway of Simon’s cafe cast us a
dark, humorous wink as the form of the entering
Georgios blotted out its radiance a moment.
Marrot’s acid chuckle suddenly smote the air as we
rose to our feet to leave.
“You never know; a player on the silver bugle
—he might be useful in an allied capacity.”
“Eh ? . . . How ?”
“Why, when we find the Lost Trumpet.”

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