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           MrDedaluslookedafterthestumpingfigureandsaidmildly:

           —Thedevilbreakthehaspofyourback!

           MrPower,collapsinginlaughter,shadedhisfacefromthewindowasthecarriagepassedGray’sstatue.

           —Wehaveallbeenthere,MartinCunninghamsaidbroadly.

           HiseyesmetMrBloom’seyes.Hecaressedhisbeard,adding:

           —Well,nearlyallofus.

           MrBloombegantospeakwithsuddeneagernesstohiscompanions’faces.

           —That’sanawfullygoodonethat’sgoingtheroundsaboutReubenJandtheson.

           —Abouttheboatman?MrPowerasked.

           —Yes.Isn’titawfullygood?

           —Whatisthat?MrDedalusasked.Ididn’thearit.

           —Therewasagirlinthecase,MrBloombegan,andhedeterminedtosendhimtotheIsleofManoutofharm’swaybutwhentheywereboth.....

           —What?MrDedalusasked.Thatconfirmedbloodyhobbledehoyisit?

           —Yes,MrBloomsaid.Theywerebothonthewaytotheboatandhetriedtodrown.....

           —DrownBarabbas!MrDedaluscried.IwishtoChristhedid!

           MrPowersentalonglaughdownhisshadednostrils.

           —No,MrBloomsaid,thesonhimself.....

           MartinCunninghamthwartedhisspeechrudely:

           —ReubenJandthesonwerepikingitdownthequaynexttheriverontheirwaytotheIsleofManboatandtheyoungchisellersuddenlygotlooseandoverthewallwithhimintotheLiffey.

           —ForGod’ssake!MrDedalusexclaimedinfright.Ishedead?

           —Dead!MartinCunninghamcried.Nothe!Aboatmangotapoleandfishedhimoutbytheslackofthebreechesandhewaslandeduptothefatheronthequaymoredeadthanalive.Halfthetownwasthere.

           —Yes,MrBloomsaid.