“How?” he said.
“That chapter ‘On the Age of Souls’ seems to me almost an absurdity,” I could not help saying.
“On what?” he said, taking his long pipe from his mouth, and staring curiously at me.
I repeated what I had said, adding comments on the extravagance of that part of the treatise.
He shook his head, puzzled.
“You must be dreaming,” he said. “I have no book in my library containing stuff of that sort. Where is it?”
I offered to fetch it, but he had already sounded his hand-gong, and James was sent for the volume.
He was absent but a minute, but the time seemed long to me. Sir Roderick puffed away at his pipe, with an amused smile which was peculiarly exasperating.
His hand went out for the volume as soon as James appeared, and of course the young man gave it to his master, who carefully looked it through, then handed it to me.
“I cannot find this redoubtable chapter,” he said; “perhaps you can. But I flattered myself I knew the book well.”