Mallison said, "It stinks!" and probed in his pockets for cigarettes.
"What was this new Shakespeare's name?" Belcher asked slowly.
Dugan said, "I haven't decided yet."
The little guy took the pipe out of his mouth. "What was the name of the story he took?"
Belcher said, "Yes, what was it?"
Dugan shrugged and smiled. "I haven't decided yet. It's not really important, is it?"
I said, "Dugan, when was that manuscript taken?"
I know it was foolish, but I had to ask—and none of the others seemed to think it peculiar. They leaned forward with me and waited for Dugan's answer. He looked at me, still smiling, and as I stared at those blurry eyes behind the vast thick lenses, I began to shake with uncertainty. In all that blur there was a strangeness, a something—Oh, hell!
Suddenly Belcher began to laugh. He laughed so hard he overturned his wine bottle and we all had to scurry out of the wet. When it came time to sit down again, the spell was broken. Anyway, the luncheon was over.
When I got outside, Joey was standing there with Dugan. He was saying, "I'm afraid you haven't got much of a yarn there."