And lo, there entered one of the clan of the O'Molloy's, a comely hero of white face yet withal somewhat ruddy, his majesty's counsel learned in the law, and with him the prince and heir of the noble line of Lambert.
Hello, Ned.
Hello, Alf.
Hello, Jack.
Hello, Joe.
God save you, says the citizen.
Save you kindly, says J. J. What'll it be, Ned?
Half one, says Ned.
So J. J. ordered the drinks.
Were you round at the court? says Joe.
Yes, says J. J. He'll square that, Ned, says he.
Hope so, says Ned.
Now what were those two at? J. J. getting him off the grand jury list and the other give him a leg over the stile. With his name in Stubbs's. Playing cards, hobnobbing with flash toffs with a swank glass in their eye, adrinking fizz and he half smothered in writs and garnishee orders. Pawning his gold watch in Cummins of Francis street where no-one would know him in the private office when I was there with Pisser releasing his boots out of the pop. What's your name, sir? Dunne, says he. Ay, and done says I. Gob, he'll come home by weeping cross one of those days, I'm thinking.
Did you see that bloody lunatic Breen round there? says Alf. U. p: up.
Yes, says J. J. Looking for a private detective.
Ay, says Ned. And he wanted right go wrong to address the court only Corny Kelleher got round him telling him to get the handwriting examined first.
Ten thousand pounds, says Alf, laughing. God, I'd give anything to hear him before a judge and jury.
Was it you did it, Alf? says Joe. The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you Jimmy Johnson.
Me? says Alf. Don't cast your nasturtiums on my character.
Whatever statement you make, says Joe, will be taken down in evidence against you.
Of course an action would lie, says J. J. It implies that he is not COMPOS MENTIS. U. p: up.
COMPOS your eye! says Alf, laughing. Do you know that he's balmy? Look at his head. Do you know that some mornings he has to get his hat on with a shoehorn.
Yes, says J. J., but the truth of a libel is no defence to an indictment for publishing it in the eyes of the law.
Ha ha, Alf, says Joe.
Still, says Bloom, on account of the poor woman, I mean his wife.
Pity about her, says the citizen. Or any other woman marries a half and half.
How half and half? says Bloom. Do you mean he ...
Half and half I mean, says the citizen. A fellow that's neither fish nor flesh.
Nor good red herring, says Joe.
That what's I mean, says the citizen. A pishogue, if you know what that is.
Begob I saw there was trouble coming. And Bloom explaining he meant on account of it being cruel for the wife having to go round after the old stuttering fool. Cruelty to animals so it is to let that bloody povertystricken Breen out on grass with his beard out tripping him, bringing down the rain. And she with her nose cockahoop after she married him because a cousin of his old fellow's was pewopener to the pope. Picture of him on the wall with his Smashall Sweeney's moustaches, the signior Brini from Summerhill, the eyetallyano, papal Zouave to the Holy Father, has left the quay and gone to Moss street. And who was he, tell us? A nobody, two pair back and passages, at seven shillings a week, and he covered with all kinds of breastplates bidding defiance to the world.
And moreover, says J. J., a postcard is publication. It was held to be sufficient evidence of malice in the testcase Sadgrove v. Hole. In my opinion an action might lie.
Six and eightpence, please. Who wants your opinion? Let us drink our pints in peace. Gob, we won't be let even do that much itself.
Well, good health, Jack, says Ned.
Good health, Ned, says J. J.
-There he is again, says Joe.
Where? says Alf.
And begob there he was passing the door with his books under his oxter and the wife beside him and Corny Kelleher with his wall eye looking in as they went past, talking to him like a father, trying to sell him a secondhand coffin.
How did that Canada swindle case go off? says Joe.
Remanded, says J. J.
One of the bottlenosed fraternity it was went by the name of James Wought alias Saphiro alias Spark and Spiro, put an ad in the papers saying he'd give a passage to Canada for twenty bob. What? Do you see any green in the white of my eye? Course it was a bloody barney. What? Swindled them all, skivvies and badhachs from the county Meath, ay, and his own kidney too. J. J. was telling us there was an ancient Hebrew Zaretsky or something weeping in the witnessbox with his hat on him, swearing by the holy Moses he was stuck for two quid.
Who tried the case? says Joe.
Recorder, says Ned.
Poor old sir Frederick, says Alf, you can cod him up to the two eyes.
Heart as big as a lion, says Ned. Tell him a tale of woe about arrears of rent and a sick wife and a squad of kids and, faith, he'll dissolve in tears on the bench.
Ay, says Alf. Reuben J was bloody lucky he didn't clap him in the dock the other day for suing poor little Gumley that's minding stones, for the corporation there near Butt bridge.