Knowing something of fainting fits, and having noticed that he had never changed colour nor shown any of the usual signs of faintness, I presumed that he wished to deceive me, and began wondering what the attack could have been. "You are not satisfied," he continued. "However, let it pass now. Some time I will explain." Seeing that he wished to be alone, I said good-night. "Can you come and dine with me to-morrow?" he asked. "I shall be alone, and should be glad to have a quiet talk with you." Accepting the invitation gladly, I went out into the warm summer night, little thinking how much I was to learn before that door again closed behind me. *CHAPTER II* On the following evening I dined with Alan Sydney for the first time. It was one of his peculiarities not to ask acquaintances to his house; his bachelorhood excused him from the necessity. I was therefore not a little surprised to notice the dainty epicureanism of his meal. The wines were such as it is an unexpected delight to find; the service a thing to remember, but scarcely to hope to attain. Why have some men this curious power of getting their slightest wish gratified, apparently without effort? Money cannot purchase it, and ordinary mortals, whilst they approach the semblance, miss the ease and quietude. My host talked freely on many subjects, leaving me to suggest a topic, and seeming equally at home whatever I might choose. Sport, philosophy, science, history--I tried each subject, and seemed always the pupil of an expert. At last I started on my pet hobby, Ancient Engravings. "_Now_," I thought, "_it will be my turn_." "I know little or nothing of the subject," he said. I went off gaily, but even while preparing to air my wisdom, he would apparently intercept my thought and take the very words out of my mouth. "_This man must be deceiving me_," I mused. "_He has purposely led me on to my favourite topic, to show that even in that he is my superior!_." My reverie was broken by his next remark-- "Why do you think me a liar?" I turned round confused, protesting that of course I did nothing of the kind. "I often am guilty of what people call lying," he said, "but never intentionally of deceiving a guest. That is why I so seldom indulge in the pleasure of entertaining." As he said this he rose, and we went together into his study. "Come," he continued, "I have a surprise for you." He went up to one of the book-cases, touched a concealed spring, and the whole oak framework moved slowly round on a pivot, forming a doorway through which we passed. Having gone down a few steps into what I judged must be an underground passage, we once more ascended into a large room, lined on every side with crowded book-cases.