She was looking anxiously at the entrance to the restaurant. "What did you ring for, Sir?" she asked, eyeing the group with astonishment. He was the beachcomber, or the old sailor with the black pearl (Ruth's tales), or the wastrel musician McClintock had described to him. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. From the centre of the ceiling hung a replica of the temple lamp in the Taj Mahal. Easy enough.
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