Lost trumpet

THE LOST TRUMPET 225
He brought an automatic pistol out of his jacket-
pocket and swung it idly to and fro on his finger¬
tip, presently, I think, a little piqued at my indiffer¬
ence and casual question :
“And why should this interest me ?”
“Because we’ve still details of this jaunt to discuss ;
and you might lose your temper again.”
‘I have no details at all to discuss with you.”
“Not even as Aslaug’s guardian ?”
I said nothing. He moved into a more easy position.
Like to hear what we arranged when I paid her that
visit last night ?”
I stared backwards, paying him no heed. He
began to whistle, and then to hum in a voice that
had lilt and youthfulness enough, spite the fact
that it was a drunkard’s voice :
“ ‘Oh, what’s the greatest pleasure
The tongue o’ man can name ?
’Tis to kiss a bonny lassie V
When the kye come hame !’
“My job to-night, Colonel Saloney. What a treat
for the Abu Zabal cows ! No more good material
going waste. What are you going to do about it ?”
I looked at him then. “Last night I told you
what would happen if you interfered with Miss
Simonssen. And that can still happen.” Abruptly I
took his right arm and twisted it behind him. He
struggled ineffectually. The Browning automatic
lay in my hand. An instant more and it had sailed
over the tail-board of the tender.
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