Dunham started. He was not sure the man had spoken, although he heard the words distinctly; and almost positive they could not have been addressed to him.
"Yeah, they got a dang good joke on you!" the driver repeated, the bubbles coming after the words this time, as if they had been pulled up by the roots out of the mud.
"I beg your pardon?" Dunham said.
"Oh, that's all right; don't mention it," the driver said with cordial magnanimity.
"What did you say about a joke, Shad?" Zora inquired, leaning forward, her voice close to Dunham's neck.
Shad took out the cork and let another little spurt of bubbles rise and drift off on the deliberate current of his humor.
"You know that feller this kid killed out in front of Ruddy's?" he said.
"Well, what about it?" Zora demanded impatiently.
"Dang good joke!" said Shad.
He lapsed off there, as if that ended the story. Dunham heard Moore snorting as if he had caught the point of the untold joke. Zora poked the driver in the back.
"What's it about, you old fool?"
"You know, when they took him to Schubert's back room and stripped him," Shad twisted his neck to talk around to Zora, although he could have been heard a quarter of a mile if he had talked straight in front,
