"He's afraid of it," said Sypher.
"What! Afraid of its going off?" she laughed.
"Oh, no," said Septimus. "I've heard lots of them go off."
"When?" asked Zora.
Septimus reddened, and for once was at a loss for one of the curiously evasive answers in which his timidity took refuge. He fidgeted in his chair. Zora repeated her jesting question. "Was it when they were firing royal salutes in St. James's Park?"
"No," said Septimus.
His back being against the fading light she could not perceive the discomfiture on his face. She longed to elicit some fantastic irrelevance.
"Well, where was it? Why this mystery?"
"I'll tell you two," said Septimus. "I've never told you before. In fact, I've never told any one—not even Wiggleswick. I don't like to think of it. It hurts. You may have wondered how I ever got any practical acquaintance with gunnery. I once held a commission in the Militia Garrison Artillery. That's how I came to love guns."
"By why should that pain you, my dear Septimus?" asked Zora.