"I wasn't drunk: don't think that father," interrupted Walter, after a rapid mental controversy as to whether, of the two evils, it might not be better to confess to the Hollands--though, in point of fact, he had not touched a drop. "See here: it's no good talking about it, now it's done and over."
"And--if you did get out by wary of the chapel ruins, what on earth made you go letting off the pistol there?"
"Well, it was an accident, that was: I didn't go to let it off. That there wall in the corner knocked again' my elbow."
"What took you to the corner?"
"I thought I'd just give a look after the boats that were getting off," said Walter, who had spent that day as well as the night, rehearsing difficult items in his mind. "The beastly pistol went off somehow, and down I dropped."
"And of all things," continued the fisherman, "to think you should ha' knocked up the Grey Sisters! It must have been Hollands."
"I was bleeding to death, father. The Grey Nunnery is the nearest place."
"No, it's not. Nettleby's is the nearest."
"As if I should go there!" cried Walter, opening his eyes at the bare suggestion.
"And as near as any is the Hutt. That's where you ought to have come on to. Why did you not? Come!"