that his house had a
drawing-room, and too proud to employ the drawing-room except on the
ceremonious day. After tea, at about a quarter to six, when
chapel-goers were hurriedly pulling gloves on, he would begin to
establish himself in a saddle-backed, ear-flapped easy-chair with "The
Christian News" and an ivory paper-knife as long and nearly as deadly as
a scimitar. "The Christian News" was a religious weekly of a new type.
It belonged to a Mr James Bott, and it gave to God and to the mysteries
of religious experience a bright and breezy actuality. Darius's
children had damned it for ever on its first issue, in which Clara had
found, in a report of a very important charitable meeting, the following
words: "Among those present were the Prince of Wales and Mr James
Bott." Such is the hasty and unjudicial nature of children that this
single sentence finished the career of "The Christian News" with the
younger generation. But Darius liked it, and continued to like it. He
enjoyed it. He would spend an hour and a half in reading it. And
further, he enjoyed cutting open the morsel. Once when Edwin, in hope
of more laughter, had cut the pages on a Saturday afternoon, and his
father had found himself unable to use the paper-knife on Sunday
evening, there had been a formidable inquiry: "Who's been meddling with
my paper?" Darius saved the paper even from himself until Sunday
evening; not till then would he touch it. This habit had flourished for
several years. It appeared never to lose its charm. And Edwin did not
cease to marvel at his father's pleasure in a tedious monotony.

It was the hallowed rite of reading "The Christian News" that Edwin
disturbed in his sudden and capricious resolve. Maggie and Mrs Nixon
had gone to chapel, for Mrs Nixon, by reason of her years, bearing,
mantle and reputation, could walk down Trafalgar Road by the side of her
mistress on a Sunday night without offence to the delicate instincts of
the town. The niece, engaged to be married at an age absurdly youthful,
had been permitted by Mrs Nixon the joy of attending evensong at the
Bleakridge Church on the arm of a male, but under promise to be back at
a quarter to eight to set supper. The house was perfectly still when
Edwin came all on fire out of his bedroom and slid down the stairs. The
gas burnt economically low within its stained-glass cage in the hall.
The drawing-room door was unlatched. He hesitated a moment on the mat,
an