‘I think you’re right,’ whispered Wardle across the table. ‘He is intoxicated, I’m sure.’
Ben Allen replied that he thought he was; and, as that gentleman had seen a vast deal of the disease in question, Wardle was confirmed in an impression which had been hovering about his mind for half an hour, and at once arrived at the conclusion that the fat boy was drunk.
‘Just keep your eye upon him for a few minutes,’ murmured Wardle. ‘We shall soon find out whether he is or not.’
The unfortunate youth had only interchanged a dozen words with Mr. Snodgrass, that gentleman having implored him to make a private appeal to some friend to release him, and then pushed him out with the snuff-box, lest his prolonged absence should lead to a discovery. He ruminated a little with a most disturbed express
