Before doing so, he thought it would be well if he were to draw up something like a plan of a campaign; he therefore reflected over some pretty conversations which would do very nicely if Mr Holt would be kind enough to make the answers proposed for him in their proper places.  But the man was a great hulking fellow, of a savage temper, and Ernest was forced to admit that unforeseen developments might arise to disconcert him.  They say it takes nine tailors to make a man, but Ernest felt that it would take at least nine Ernests to make a Mr Holt.  How if, as soon as Ernest came in, the tailor were to become violent and abusive?  What could he do?  Mr Holt was in his own lodgings, and had a right to be undisturbed.  A legal right, yes, but had he a moral right?  Ernest thought not, considering his mode of life.  But put this on one side; if the man were to be violent, what should he do?  Paul had fought with wild beasts at Ephesus—­that must indeed have been awful—­but perhaps they were not very wild wild beasts; a rabbit and a canary are wild beasts; but, formidable or not as wild beasts go, they would, nevertheless stand no chance against St Paul, for he was inspired; the miracle would have been if the wild beasts escaped, not that St Paul should have done so; but, however all this might be, Ernest felt that he dared not begin to convert Mr Holt by fighting him.  Why, when he had heard Mrs Holt screaming “murder,” he had cowered under the bed clothes and waited, expecting to hear the blood dripping through the ceiling on to his own floor.  His imagination translated every sound into a pat, pat, pat, and once or twice he thought he had felt it dropping on to his counterpane, but he had never gone upstairs to try and rescue poor Mrs Holt.  Happily it had proved next morning that Mrs Holt was in her usual health.

Ernest was in despair about hitting on any good way of opening up spiritual communication with his neighbour, when it occurred to him that he had better perhaps begin by going upstairs, and knocking very gently at Mr Holt’s door.  He would then resign himself to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, and act as the occasion, which, I suppose, was another name for the Holy Spirit, suggested.  Triply armed with this reflection, he mounted the stairs quite jauntily, and was about to knock when he heard Holt’s voice inside swearing savagely at his wife.  This made him pause to think whether after all the moment was an auspicious one, and while he was thus pausing, Mr Holt, who had heard that someone was on the stairs, opened the door and put his head out.  When he saw Ernest, he made an unpleasant, not to say offensive movement, which might or might not have been directed at Ernest and looked altogether so ugly that my hero had an instantaneous and unequivocal revelation from the Holy Spirit to the effect that he should continue his journey upstairs at once, as though he had never intended arresting it at Mr Holt’s room, and begin by converting Mr and Mrs Baxter, the Methodists in the top floor front.  So this was what he did.