"Will!" he cried in a voice of thunder.
Will looked up with dazed eyes, and, seeing who had called him, burst into a loud and boisterous laugh.
"So you'll begin with your darn preaching," he remarked, gaping.
For reply, Christopher reached out, and, seizing him by the shoulder, shook him roughly to his senses.
"What's the meaning of this tomfoolery?" he demanded. "Do you mean to say you've made a beast of yourself, after all?"
Partly sobered by the shock, Will gazed back at him with a dogged misery which gave his face the colour of extreme old age.
"I'm not so drunk as I look," he responded bitterly. "I wish to Heaven I were! There are worse things than being drunk, though you won't believe it. I say," he added, in a sudden, hysterical exclamation, "you're the only friend I have on earth!"
"Nonsense. What have you been doing?"
"Oh, I couldn't help it—it wasn't my fault, I'll be blamed if it was! I did sell the breastpin and get the money, and wrapped it in the list of things that Molly wanted. I put them in my pocket," he finished, touching his coat, "the money and the list together."
"And where is it?"