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several domestic chores to perform, as she had been left in charge of the whole house, there were times when Lillian was left completely alone.
    One such time, after a busy morning in the library, Lillian decided to explore the house more thoroughly. She knew that Sonia was downstairs preparing lunch in the large kitchen.
    She entered room after sumptuous room, appreciating the tasteful decoration, the gilt-edged coving, the splendid works of the Renaissance that seemed to hang from every room. Eventually, and probably inevitably, she was drawn to Hyde-Lee's private quarters. Nobody had told her that it was out of bounds but she knew instinctively that it was, as it was Hyde-Lee's private quarters. But her curiosity got the better of her. For a year she had trailed through libraries for snippets of information about Hyde-Lee, and here she was able to walk around alone in his room. It was an opportunity that was just too temptingly precious to ignore.
    She entered the main sitting room where Hyde-Lee had dined with her the first night that she had arrived. It was tidy and ordered and she soon grew bored with looking around it.
    She noticed, however, that there was another room off to the left. To her dismay, though, the door was locked. She could only imagine that this was indeed the room where Hyde-Lee had written his latest novels and memoirs. It was so frustrating to find it locked. Again temptation took over. Eventually, using a trusty credit card, she managed to open the door. She knew that she really shouldn't be doing this, but considering how much time she had spent researching Hyde-Lee, she couldn't resist.
    The room had a high ceiling and was a long oblong in shape. It was less grand than most of the others but had all the paraphernalia one would expect to find in a writer's studio: an old oak desk piled high with manuscripts and revisions, a row of dusty books behind, and a pile of leather-bound journals.
    There seemed to be two sets of separate diaries in the unlocked desk drawer. There were up to three heavy volumes bound in red leather. She opened the last one at random, settling on the most recent date. There was the usual information about his writing projects, information about his wife, a couple of aphorisms about Italy, but nothing exceptional. The last volume suddenly ended on the day of his wife's death.
    There were three other black leather volumes lying beside it. Judging by the way the paper had yellowed he must have also kept these diaries since he was a young man.
    She flicked through pages and pages of these diaries, becoming intensely shocked by their content, for all of them outlined in minutest detail his sexual activities, stretching back to when he was a young man.
    She found the earliest volume, nineteen fifty-five to nineteen sixty-five. She skimmed through them quickly. Nobody was mentioned by name, usually only by initial. Her heart sank when she found several references to a certain JS. Her heart was pounding as she began to read more and more.
    There was a long passage dated nineteen fifty-six, June the twenty-third... and entitled The Order of Janus . She began to read:
    'It was all perfectly set up. How much they realize that all this theosophy with a little bit of devil worship is only an excuse for our wicked little practices, I will never know. JS and LW are certainly in on the joke but as for the rest, some of them even take it seriously.
    It was all terribly delicious. We met as usual in LW's basement, fantastically decked out with spooky black candles, and that wonderful long plinth that LW had made for other practices than pedestalling emperors. The metal bars I thought were overdoing it a little but at least they serve their purpose.
    It's all wonderful stuff. It has taken us all weeks to work on it, and solstice, even though there is no sunrise in sight, is a beautiful little touch.
    JS and LW make me laugh. To think of them spending all that time at college trying to get the