“Case dismissed,” he said.
“You get a receipt,” Shreve said. “You get a signed receipt for that money.”
The squire looked at Shreve mildly. “Case dismissed,” he said without raising his voice.
“I’ll be damned—” Shreve said.
“Come on here,” Spoade said, taking his arm. “Good afternoon, Judge. Much obliged.” As we passed out the door Julio’s voice rose again, violent, then ceased. Spoade was looking at me, his brown eyes quizzical, a little cold. “Well, bud, I reckon you’ll do your girl chasing in Boston after this.”
“You damned fool,” Shreve said, “What the hell do you mean anyway, straggling off here, fooling with these damn wops?”
“Come on,” Spoade said, “They must be getting impatient.”
Mrs Bland was talking to them. They were Miss Holmes and Miss Daingerfield and they quit listening to her and looked at me again with that delicate and curious horror, their veils turned back upon their little white noses and their eyes fleeing and mysterious beneath the veils.
“Quentin Compson,” Mrs Bland said, “What would your mother say? A young man naturally gets into scrapes, but to be arrested on foot by a country policeman. What did they think he’d done, Gerald?”
“Nothing,” Gerald said.