The cases were placed on the floor, and the dealer opened them, putting the rosin on a single bow.
Hawksley, a fresh bandage on his head, his shoulders propped by pillows, eyed the initial manoeuvres with frank amusement.
"I say, you know, would you mind tuning them for me?
I'm not top hole." The dealer's eyebrows went up.

An Englishman?
Bewildered, he bent to the trifling labour of tuning the violins.

Hawksley rejected the first two instruments after thrumming the strings with his thumb.

He struck up a melody on the third but did not finish it.
"My word! If you have a violin there why not let me have it at once ?" The dealer flushed.

"Try this, sir.