He was quickly passing into a state of sodden stupefaction.
Being unfamiliar with Collins's habits and his capacity for drink, Fanwell was trying desperately to think of some means of restoring the drunken man to a condition in which his perverted sense of injuries suffered would inspire his tongue to further revelations.
"Is he a chronic drunk or an occasional drinker ?" the detective whispered to Cooper.
"Chronic," came the whispered reply.
"Then he'll recover in a few minutes." They waited while Collins surrendered completely to the conquering stupor, which seemed more like a heavy sleep brought on by physical exhaustion than the overpowering effect of whisky fumes.

His heavy eyelids closed, his jaw hung, he breathed through his mouth.

After a time Fanwell shook the unconscious Collins until all the drowsiness left him.
"We're going to dinner," he said.

"Come and join!" Collins waved a repudiating hand.
"Don't want any food," he growled.

"Give me a drink." He was induced to accompany his friends into the dining-room.