Hughie did not reply. He was running his tongue round his cracked and blackened lips, and tentatively sucking his palate.
"I know that taste," he remarked. "It reminds me of a night I once spent in Canton. I have it—opium!"
Then he tenderly fingered the back of his head, and nodded with the interested air of one who is acquiring a new item of experience.
"I've been filled up with opium before," he said, "but this is the first time I've been sand-bagged. I suppose I was sand-bagged first and hocussed afterwards. Yes, that's it."
He looked almost pleased. He was a man who liked to get to the bottom of things. Presently he continued:—
"Could you get me a drink of water? I've got a tongue like a stick of glue."
Allerton departed as bidden, presently to return with a pannikin. Hughie was standing up in the alley-way, swaying unsteadily and regarding his attire.
"I say," he said, after gulping the water, "would you mind telling me—you see, I'm a little bit wuzzy in the head at present—where the devil I am, and whether I came on board in this kit or my own clothes?"
"Steamship Orinoco," replied Allerton precisely, "out of New York, for Bordeaux."
"Let me think," said Hughie,—"Orinoco? Ah! now I'm beginning to see daylight. What's the name of the owner, our friend from Coney Island?"