"There's plenty of music in the thing," he said, "and a lot could come out in five minutes, if the right man played it." His words were almost like a challenge, and it reached to Jethro's innermost nature.

He would show this Gorgio robber what a Romany could do, and do as easily as the birds sing.

The Gorgio was a money-master, they said, but he would find that a Romany was a master, too, in his own way.

He thought of one of the first pieces he had ever heard, a rhapsody which had grown and grown, since it was first improvised by a Tzigany in Hungary.

He had once played it to an English lady at the Amphitryon Club in London, and she had swooned in the arms of her husband's best friend.
He had seen men and women avert their heads when he had played it, daring not to look into each other's eyes.