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Black Caesar's Clan : a Florida Mystery Story by Albert Payson Terhune
page 119 of 264 (45%)
"Music's a fine thing, I'm told. But it doesn't spray a
grapefruit orchard or keep the scale off of mango trees. Come
up to the house. I want to show you over the island and have
a chat with you about the job I have in mind."

As Milo strode on the two others fell in step behind him.
Brice lowered his voice and said to the sulking Roke:

"That collie belongs to Mr. Standish. I did you a good turn
it seems by keeping you from stealing him. You'd have been in
a worse fix than you are now, if Mr. Standish had come over
here to-day and found him on the island."

Roke did not deign to reply, but moved a little farther from
the speaker.

"At this rate," said Brice pleasantly. "you and I are likely
to have a jolly time together, out here. I can' imagine a
merrier chum for a desert island visit. I only hope I won't
neglect my work chatting with you all day."

Roke eyed him obliquely as he plodded on, and his battered
lip-corner lifted a little in what looked like a beast snarl.
But he said nothing.

Then they were at the shallow porch of the hut and Milo
Standish had thrown open its iron door letting out a gush of
golden melody from the violin. At his hail. the music
ceased. And Rodney Hade, fiddle in hand, appeared in the
doorway.
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