One might say that an intimate acquaintance would have detected a false note in Casey's defiance.

His manner was restrained just when violence would have been more natural.
"Damn a pipe," Casey grumbled with drunken petulance.

"Anybody got a cigarette?
I'm single-handed an' I ain't able t' roll 'em." It was the coroner himself who handed Casey a "tailor-made." Casey nodded glumly, accepted a match and lighted the cigarette almost as if he were sober.

He looked the group over noncommittally, eyed again the handcuffs on Mart and Joe, sent a veiled glance toward Barney Oakes and turned away.

He still held the center of the stage.