Long John Fanning blew a plume of smoke from his lips.
Martin Cunningham spoke by turns, twirling the peak of his beard, to the assistant town clerk and the subsheriff, while John Wise Nolan held his peace.
―What Dignam was that? Long John Fanning asked.
Jimmy Henry made a grimace and lifted his left foot.
―O, my corns! he said plaintively. Come upstairs for goodness’ sake till I sit down somewhere. Uff! Ooo! Mind!
Testily he made room for himself beside Long John Fanning’s flank and passed in and up the stairs.
―Come on up, Martin Cunningham said to the subsheriff. I don’t think you knew him or perhaps you did, though.
With John Wyse Nolan Mr Power followed them in.
―Decent little soul he was, Mr Power said to the stalwart back of Long John Fanning ascending towards Long John Fanning in the mirror.
―Rather lowsized, Dignam of Menton’s office that was, Martin Cunningham said.
Long John Fanning could not remember him.
Clatter of horsehoofs sounded from the air.