He knew that a blind man may see such mysteries on any day and that a wise one will not try to explain them.
Still he wondered.

Had the man's reputation dazzled her ?--for undoubtedly he had one; or was it that intellect which suffered an eclipse when Ballantyne went into camp with nobody to carry tales?
He was still pondering on that problem when Ballantyne swung back to the table and set himself to prove, drunk though he was, that his reputation was not ill-founded.
"I am afraid Stella's not very well," he said, sitting heavily down.
"But she asked me to tell you things, didn't she?
Well, her wishes are my law.

So here goes." His manner altogether changed now that they were alone.

He became confidential, intimate, friendly.

He was drunk.