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This time it was a five-crown note, and Martin stood fingering it, hardly able to believe his eyes. Peer's father was something like a father. It was a fine thing, too, to see a grand gentleman undress. "I'll have things like that some day," thought Peer, watching each new wonder that came out of the bag.
He put down a hand to help her step up. She slipped the five-crown piece into his palm. "Up front," he whispered hoarsely. "Next to the driver's seat and keep down. How far?" "Nearest tube line." He grinned again and nodded. "Can do." Twenty minutes later Trigger was in a downtown ComWeb booth.
Then he went on with a note of spiteful pride in his voice, though every now and then interrupted by a peculiar gurgling groan. "Poor Dill never said another word Dill with the spur sticking in his skull, a regular cavalry spur, as big as a five-crown piece.
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