The old man spat with great precision on to a glowing cinder. “Dey right hyar, Marse Joyce,” he said.
“Right here? Where?”
“Hyar in dis room, suh. All three o’ yo’.”
“Say, are you crazy, or am I?” Joyce flung at him.
“No, suh, I ain’ crazy,” returned the old man, and Joyce’s companions broke into a roar of laughter at this none too subtle gibe.
John J. Joyce turned on them furiously.
“Shut up, you two! Go into that back room and pull them out!”
Still guffawing, the men disappeared through the doorway in the partition.
“Nobody in here!” a voice sang out after a moment.
Joyce looked bewildered. Then he picked up the lamp, walked to the open door and looked into the room.