"He's not sick," he said; "he's drunk! Blunt! wake up! Blunt!" But the mass refused to move.
"Hallo!" says Pine, smelling at the broken tumbler, "what's this?
Smells queer.

Rum?
No.

Eh! Laudanum! By George, he's been hocussed!" "Nonsense!" "I see it," slapping his thigh.

"It's that infernal woman! She's drugged him, and meant to do the same for"-- (Frere gave him an imploring look)--"for anybody else who would be fool enough to let her do it.
Dawes was right, sir.

She's in it; I'll swear she's in it." "What! my wife's maid?
Nonsense!" said Vickers.
"Nonsense!" echoed Frere.
"It's no nonsense.