But I was secretly determined to do everything possible to hasten events. Obviously, the first necessity was to understand the native language--hence I put forth every effort to learn to read and write. Less because of my natural linguistic tendencies than because of my acquaintance with ancient Greek, I was making more rapid progress than any of my fellows, and was acquiring the rudiments of a speaking and reading knowledge. Not only did my own ears tell me so, but my instructor admitted as much by his occasional nods of approval, and now and then even by a “Very Good” or “Excellent” when I was speaking or reciting to him. But not content with my normal rate of advance, I was fortifying myself with much secret practice. Often I would refrain from joining my comrades in their morning and evening strolls and pastimes, and would remain quietly in my room with a pad of paper and a pencil supplied me by my tutor. I would devote hours to writing in the native alphabet, until I could employ it with facility and assurance; or I would jot down a list of words and phrases and repeat them aloud time after time, trying to imitate the peculiar accentuation of my instructor. The latter task in particular was difficult and even painful, and subjected me more than once to ridicule, when Stranahan or the others entered the room unexpectedly and found me apparently talking to myself. But I persisted in spite of discouragements, and had hopes that, instead of commanding but a few scattered words and phrases, I would shortly be able to conduct an extended conversation. It was only natural, however, that I should be able to read the language before I could speak it. Not more than two or three weeks had passed before I felt capable of deciphering any average native document. But, unfortunately, I had little opportunity to practice my talents, for the only written material I saw was in the shape of the simple exercise books lent me by my instructor. These, while admirably adapted for clarifying grammatical problems, were entirely devoid of vital information; and when I asked my instructor for more edifying works, I did not seem able to make him understand, for what he brought me was merely a more advanced exercise book. Consequently, I had every reason to be grateful for that chance which put me in possession of several volumes designed for adult readers. For lack of better occupation, Rawson and I were minutely inspecting our apartments one afternoon, scrutinizing in particular the picturesque patterns of the veined marble walls, when suddenly I stopped short with a cry of surprise, startled at sight of a little rectangle faintly although unmistakably engraved in otherwise unbroken surface of the marble. Promptly I informed Rawson of my discovery. He shared in my surprise, and excitedly suggested that this was some mysterious trap-door.