Chapter Twenty-Two
It was actually harder to pretend to be drunk than Oliver had thought it would be. He had no problem slurring his words and uttering the occasional hiccup, no problem giving a rambling and repetitive account of the six-month-long journey from India, no problem stumbling as he walked, almost losing his balance . . . but putting it all together was surprisingly difficult. He kept losing his place in the monologue—which hopefully only added to verisimilitude.
He was relieved when he and Ninian reached the lake shore. His heart gave a little kick in his chest as the jetty came into sight. This is it.
Oliver paused for a moment and stood swaying, looking at the silky black water, the dark hump of the island, the silvery moon and its reflection—and the boat shed, with its d
