The High Groaning of a Negro

High groaning words echoed clamorously through the bare garage. I saw Wilson standing on the raised threshold of his office swaying back and forth, holding to the door-post with both hands. Some man was talking to him in a low voice but Wilson neither heard nor saw. He would drop slowly from the swinging light to the laden table by the wall, and then jerk back to the light again. Presently Tom lifted his head to the jerk, and after staring around the garage with glazed eyes, addressed a mumbled and coherent remark to the policeman.