Lost trumpet
(281)
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THE LOST TRUMPET 281
... I knelt and put my hand upon her heart and
found no movement there, and had a sudden thought
and glanced round the room.
“The Lost Trumpet—where is the Trumpet ?”
It was nowhere near Huth Rizq. But the others
fell back and I saw midway the room a little heap of
powder and dust and charred metal. Marrot was
speaking in a strange, strained voice.
That flash of lightning must have fused the
thing utterly.”
“"Lightning ?”
“Of course. What else ? Lightning. Didn’t you
see it strike through the window the moment she
lifted the Trumpet to her lips ? . . . Murdered to
make an archeologists’ holiday. We killed her,
Huebsch and I, playing with those damned toys
on which I have wasted my life. But it’s the last.
I’ve finished with archeology. I’m going back to
America to do real work, to fight all the insane
cruelties of ignorance and folly that murder such
harmless folk as this. . . . God, why haven’t I gone
before ? Afraid of sneers and laughter, afraid of my
reputation. . . . Huebsch, I’m going. I’ll help you
clear the camp and the Institute’ll soon send you
another assistant ”
Some words like these poured from him. And
then we became aware of Huebsch. He stood beside
us and looked down at Huth Rizq, his face singu¬
larly clear and expressionless and unexcited. At
Marrot s words he smiled, gently, amusedly, no
longer weariedly.
... I knelt and put my hand upon her heart and
found no movement there, and had a sudden thought
and glanced round the room.
“The Lost Trumpet—where is the Trumpet ?”
It was nowhere near Huth Rizq. But the others
fell back and I saw midway the room a little heap of
powder and dust and charred metal. Marrot was
speaking in a strange, strained voice.
That flash of lightning must have fused the
thing utterly.”
“"Lightning ?”
“Of course. What else ? Lightning. Didn’t you
see it strike through the window the moment she
lifted the Trumpet to her lips ? . . . Murdered to
make an archeologists’ holiday. We killed her,
Huebsch and I, playing with those damned toys
on which I have wasted my life. But it’s the last.
I’ve finished with archeology. I’m going back to
America to do real work, to fight all the insane
cruelties of ignorance and folly that murder such
harmless folk as this. . . . God, why haven’t I gone
before ? Afraid of sneers and laughter, afraid of my
reputation. . . . Huebsch, I’m going. I’ll help you
clear the camp and the Institute’ll soon send you
another assistant ”
Some words like these poured from him. And
then we became aware of Huebsch. He stood beside
us and looked down at Huth Rizq, his face singu¬
larly clear and expressionless and unexcited. At
Marrot s words he smiled, gently, amusedly, no
longer weariedly.
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| The books of Lewis Grassic Gibbon > Lost trumpet > (281) |
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| Permanent URL | https://digital.nls.uk/205193133 |
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| Description | J. Leslie Mitchell. |
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| Shelfmark | Vts.143.j.8 |
| Attribution and copyright: |
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More information
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| Description | Sixteen books written by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (1901-1935), regarded as the most important Scottish prose writer of the early 20th century. All were published in the last seven years of his life, mostly under his real name, James Leslie Mitchell. They include two works of science fiction, non-fiction works on exploration, short stories set in Egypt, a novel about Spartacus, and the classic 'Scots Quair' trilogy which includes 'Sunset Song'. Mitchell's first book 'Hanno, or the future of exploration' (1928) is rare and has never been republished. |
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