Once again he looked into the cup. Then he finished the wine at a
draught--elbow tilted at an angle on a level with his head--and
hurriedly put the chalice away.

It was done now. And he felt quite all right. He began to take off
his surplice, and when he trod on the end of it and stumbled a little,
it seemed quite a natural accident. He smiled--laughed even, but very
gently--at the fears he had entertained. Evidently he must have a
very good head to be able to take so much wine. His hat dropped from
his hand as he was raising it to his head; but that was nothing. It
was quite a simple thing to stoop and pick it up again. If a man were
intoxicated he could not do that. He would probably fall. Mr. Bishop
only knocked his elbow against the vestry table as he stood upright.

He looked round the room. Was everything put away? What a delightful
service that was at morning prayer on Easter day. It was quite true
what he had said in his sermon--this was a day of promise, of good
hope. He felt that within himself.

Ah! the cupboard that contained the bottle of wine had not been locked.
He walked across to it, quite steadily, perhaps a little slowly. The
bottle was there all right. How much had they used of it? He
remembered that it had been full to the base of the neck. Now? He
took it out and looked at it. It was more than half empty! He had
practically consumed half a bottle of strongly intoxicating wine!
How could he be sober? He laughed. He heard the laugh within himself,
as though he were standing by, a spectator to his own actions. Then
he knew he was drunk. He said so--to himself--aloud.