Page 178 - dubliners

short periods he had been driven to live by his wits. He
had been a clerk in the Midland Railway, a canvasser for
advertisements for The Irish Times and for The Freeman’s
Journal, a town traveller for a coal firm on commission, a
private inquiry agent, a clerk in the office of the Sub-Sheriff,
and he had recently become secretary to the City Coroner.
His new office made him professionally interested in Mr.
Kernan’s case.
‘Pain? Not much,’ answered Mr. Kernan. ‘But it’s so sick-
ening. I feel as if I wanted to retch off.’
‘That’s the boose,’ said Mr. Cunningham firmly.
‘No,’ said Mr. Kernan. ‘I think I caught cold on the car.
There’s something keeps coming into my throat, phlegm
or——‘
‘Mucus.’ said Mr. M’Coy.
‘It keeps coming like from down in my throat; sicken-
ing.’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mr. M’Coy, ‘that’s the thorax.’
He looked at Mr. Cunningham and Mr. Power at the
same time with an air of challenge. Mr. Cunningham nod-
ded his head rapidly and Mr. Power said:
‘Ah, well, all’s well that ends well.’
‘I’m very much obliged to you, old man,’ said the inval-
id.
Mr. Power waved his hand.
‘Those other two fellows I was with——‘
‘Who were you with?’ asked Mr. Cunningham.
‘A chap. I don’t know his name. Damn it now, what’s his
name? Little chap with sandy hair....’

178 Dubliners