Albert murmured, staring at Darius. And it was exactly
as if he had said, "Well, it's extraordinary that a foolish physical and
mental wreck such as you are now, should ever have had wit and courage
enough to rise and address the glorious Felons!"

Darius glanced up at the gas, with a gesture that was among Edwin's
earliest recollections, and then he fixed his eyes dully on the fire,
with head bent and muscles lax.

"Have a cigarette--that'll cheer ye up," said Albert.

Darius made a negative sign.

"He's very tired, seemingly," Albert remarked to Edwin, as if Darius had
not been present.

"Yes," Edwin muttered, examining his father. Darius appeared ten years
older than his age. His thin hair was white, though the straggling
beard that had been allowed to grow was only grey. His face was sunken
and pale, but even more striking was the extreme pallor of the hands
with their long clean fingernails, those hands that had been red and
rough, tools of all work. His clothes hung somewhat loosely on him, and
a shawl round his shoulders was awry. The comatose melancholy in his
eyes was acutely painful to see--so much so that Edwin could not bear to
look long at them. "Father," Edwin asked him suddenly, "wouldn't you
like to go to bed?"

And to his surprise Darius said, "Yes."

"Well, come on then."

Darius did not move.

"Come on," Edwin urged. "I'm sure you're overtired, and you'll be
better in bed."

He took his father by the arm, but there was no responsive movement.
Often Edwin noticed this capricious, obstinate attitude; his father
would express a wish to do a certain thing, and then would make no
effort to do it. "Come!" said Edwin more firmly, pulling at the
lifeless arm. Albert sprang up, and said that he would assist. One on
either side, they got Darius to his feet, and slowly walked him out of
the room. He was very exasperating. His weight and his inertia were
terrible. The spectacle suggested that either Darius was pretending to
be a carcass, or Edwin and Albert were pretending that a carcass was
alive. On the stairs there was not room for the three abreast. One had
to push, another to pull: Darius seemed wilfully to fall backwards if
pressure were released. Edwin restrained his exasperation; but though
he said nothing, his sharp half-vicious pull on that arm seemed to say,
"Confound you! Come up--will you!" The last two steps of the stair had
a peculiar effect on Darius. He appeared