"There is the book," said Strahan; "I have just glanced at it, and find
much of it written in Latin; and I am ashamed to say that I have so
neglected the little Latin I learned in our college days that I could not
construe what I looked at."

I sat down and placed the book before me; Strahan fell into a doze, from
which he was wakened by the housekeeper, who brought in the tea-things.

"Well," said Strahan, languidly, "do you find much in the book that
explains the many puzzling riddles in poor Sir Philip's eccentric life and
pursuits?"

"Yes," said I. "Do not interrupt me."

Strahan again began to doze, and the housekeeper asked if we should want
anything more that night, and if I thought I could find my way to my
bedroom.

I dismissed her impatiently, and continued to read. Strahan woke up again
as the clock struck eleven, and finding me still absorbed in the
manuscript, and disinclined to converse, lighted his candle, and telling
me to replace the manuscript in the desk when I had done with it, and be
sure to lock the desk and take charge of the key, which he took off the
bunch and gave me, went upstairs, yawning.

I was alone in the wizard Forman's chamber, and bending over a stranger
record than had ever excited my infant wonder, or, in later years,
provoked my sceptic smile.