Sebastian Wilde really was a great man. He seemed to be paralysed from his hips downwards, which, indeed, was the case, though his arms were vigorous enough and his affliction had not robbed him of the brightness of his eyes or blunted the edge of his amazing intellect. He had no friends and visitors; he was pleased, in his words, to work quietly on the task of his life and, perhaps, when this is completed, he can go out of his obscurity and again take his place in the great world. However, what could such a noble person hide?