"Who is what, sir?" demanded Figgins.
"Never mind. I don't want to use unbecoming expressions," said Mole. "You wouldn't like to hear what I was going to say."
The orphan was so angry at this that, unheeding what he was doing, he drank off nearly a tumblerful of strong sherry at once.
This, coming on the top of other libations, made the whole scene dance before his bewildered eyes.
He began to see two Moles, and shook his fist, as he thought, upon both of them at once.
"I d—don't care for either of you," he exclaimed, fiercely.
"Either of us? For me, I suppose you mean?" said the tutor.
"Which are you?" asked Figgins.
"Which are who?" retorted Mole.
"Why, there are two of you, and I wa—want to know which is the right one," said Figgins.