On the verandah he stopped short on purpose to address to us anxiously a long remark which I failed to understand completely. It sounded like some horrible unknown language. But when Captain Giles, after only an instant for reflection, assured him with homely friendliness, “Aye, to be sure. You are right there,” he appeared very much gratified indeed, and went away (pretty straight, too) to seek a distant long chair.

“What was he trying to say?” I asked with disgust.

“I don’t know. Mustn’t be down too much on a fellow. He’s feeling pretty wretched, you may be sure; and tomorrow he’ll feel worse yet.”

Judging by the man’s appearance it seemed impossible. I wondered what sort of complicated debauch had reduced him to that unspeakable condition. Captain Giles’ benevolence was spoiled by a curious air of complacency which I disliked. I said with a little laugh: