The other shrugged his shoulders. “Who can tell I speak many languages. I do not like the Mister. It is ugly in the ear. Monsieur, signor, effendi, kowadji, they have some respect in them.”
“You wanted to pay me respect, eh?”
“You have Sarasate’s violin!”
“I have a lot of things I could do without.”
“Could you do without the Sarasate?”
“Long enough to hear you play it, Mr.—what is your name, may I ask?”
“My name is Jethro Fawe.”
“Well, Jethro Fawe, my Romany ‘chal’, you shall show me what a violin can do.”
“You know the Romany lingo?” Jethro asked, as Ingolby went over to the violin-case.
“A little—just a little.”