"How beautiful!" I ejaculated, standing at his side and watching the great white moon slowly rising from the sea. "What a fairyland!"
"Yes. It is beautiful. The Riviera is, I believe, the fairest spot that God has created on this earth," and then he sighed, as though world-weary.
Presently, when we had been chatting a few minutes, he suggested that we should re-enter the house, as he feared that I, being décolletée, might catch a chill.
"I have a hobby," he said; "the only thing which prevents me from becoming absolutely melancholy. Would you care to see it?"
"Oh, do show it me!" I said, at once interested.
"Then come with me," he exclaimed. He led me through two long passages to a door which he unlocked with a tiny master-key upon his chain. "This is my private domain," he laughed. "No one is allowed in here, so you must consider yourself very highly privileged."
"That I certainly do," I responded.
As he entered he switched on the electric light, displaying to my astonished gaze a large place fitted as a workshop with lathes, tools, wheels, straps and all sorts of mechanical contrivances.
"This room is secret," he said, with a smile. "If the fine people who sometimes patronise me with visits thought that I actually worked here they'd be horrified."
"Then do you actually work?" I inquired, surprised.