"Nosh a bit," replied the other. "Who you talking to?" He leaned forward in danger of falling through the window. "Lemme out."
"It's not all drink," Gardner explained. "He has something like shakes and ague now and then. Says he got it in India."
The other disappeared and a few moments afterwards reeled out of the door and held himself upright by one of the verandah posts.
"Now I'm here, don't let me interrupt," he said. "Nice place if this post would keep still."
Warned by a sign from Gardner, the others ignored him, and Harding remarked to the farmer, "You hadn't finished what you were saying when he disturbed you."
"I don't know that it was of much importance; speaking of degenerates, weren't we? We have a curious example of the neurotic here: a fellow who makes a good many dollars by victimizing farmers who are forced to borrow when they lose a crop, as well as young fools from England, and by way of amusement studies modern magic and indulges in refined debauchery. It strikes me as a particularly unhallowed combination."
"No sensible man has any use for hoodoo tricks and the folks who practise them," Harding said. "They're frauds from the start."
"Don't know what you're talking about," Benson broke in. "Not all tricks! Seen funny things in the East; thingsh decent men better leave alone."
Letting go the post, he lurched forward and as the light fell upon his face Blake started. He had been puzzled by something familiar in the voice, and now he knew the man, whom he had no wish to meet. He was too late in hitching his chair back into the shadow, for Benson had seen him and stopped with an excited cry.
"Blake of the sappers! Want to cut your old friendsh? Whatsh you doing here?"