Holohan told me.
You know Holohan?
--Hop and carry one, is it? Myles Crawford said.
--And poor Gumley is down there too, so he told me, minding stones for
the corporation. A night watchman.
Stephen turned in surprise.
--Gumley? he said. You don't say so? A friend of my father's, is it?
--Never mind Gumley, Myles Crawford cried angrily. Let Gumley mind
the stones, see they don't run away. Look at here. What did Ignatius
Gallaher do? I'll tell you. Inspiration of genius. Cabled right away. Have
you WEEKLY FREEMAN of 17 March? Right. Have you got that?
He flung back pages of the files and stuck his finger on a point.
--Take page four, advertisement for Bransome's coffee, let us say. Have
you got that? Right.
The telephone whirred.
A DISTANT VOICE
--I'll answer it, the professor said, going.
--B is parkgate. Good.
His finger leaped and struck point after point, vibrating.
--T is viceregal lodge. C is where murder took place. K is Knockmaroon
gate.
The loose flesh of his neck shook like a cock's wattles. An illstarched
dicky jutted up and with a rude gesture he thrust it back into his
waistcoat.
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