'Oh, I recollect; I left it on my dressing-table this morning,'
said Wardle. 'Run into the next room and fetch it.'
The fat boy went into the next room; and, having been absent
about a minute, returned with the snuff-box, and the palest face
that ever a fat boy wore.
'What's the matter with the boy?' exclaimed Wardle.
'Nothen's the matter with me,' replied Joe nervously.
'Have you been seeing any spirits?' inquired the old gentleman.
'Or taking any?' added Ben Allen.
'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.
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