“Haven’t we seen that fat boy before?” Myra said to me.
The fat party moved a little nearer. His companions remained in the shadows.
Bogle, suddenly feeling the hostile atmosphere, decided that he ought to assert himself.
“Lookin’ for anyone, pal?”
The fat party felt in his pocket. “Somewhere I had a very interesting notice,” he said.
“Now, where did I put it?” He fumbled again, frowning slightly.
“Try your paunch,” Myra said, lighting a cigarette and flipping the match into the darkness. I tapped her arm. “Would you mind keeping quiet?” I said pleadingly. “It’s not much to ask in these days of acute crisis.”
The fat man pulled out a crumpled newspaper and began smoothing it between his great hands. He peered at it and then at Myra. Then his face lit up and he actually smiled. It didn’t reassure me. You know how it would be if you met a snake and it smiled at you, it wouldn’t reassure you.
“Yes,” he said, “here it is. Very interesting. Very interesting indeed.”
“He seems happy enough talking to himself,” Myra said, yawning. “Don’t you think we can go to bed?”