“Fine. There’s another good thing, too. Your man Shiro. He’s been with you in so many tight pinches in all the unknown corners of the world on your hunting trips and explorations that we can trust him, and he’ll probably come in handy.”
“Yes, we can trust him implicitly. As you know, he is really my friend instead of my man.”
During the next few days, while workmen were installing a complete chemical laboratory in the tower room, Seaton busied himself in purchasing the equipment necessary for the peculiar problem before him. His list was long and varied, ranging from a mighty transformer, capable of delivering thousands of kilovolts down to a potentiometer, so sensitive that it would register the difference of potential set up by two men in shaking hands.
From daylight until dark Seaton worked in the laboratory, either alone or superintending and assisting the men at work there. Every night when Crane went to bed he saw Seaton in his room in a haze of smoke, poring over blueprints or, surrounded by abstruse works upon the calculus and subatomic phenomena, making interminable calculations.
Less than two miles away lived Dorothy Vaneman, who had promised to be his wife. He had seen her but once since “the impossible” had happened, since his prosaic copper steam-bath had taken flight under his hand and pointed the way to a great adventure. In a car his friend was to build, moved by this stupendous power which he must learn to control, they would traverse interstellar space—visit strange planets and survey strange solar systems.
While he did not forget his sweetheart—the thought of her was often in his mind, and the fact that her future was so intimately connected with his own gave to every action a new meaning—he had such a multitude of things to do and was so eager to get them all done at once that day after day went by and he could not find time to call upon her.
Crane remonstrated in vain. His protests against Seaton’s incessant work had no effect. Seaton insisted that he must fix firmly just a few more points before they eluded him, and stuck doggedly to his task.
Finally, Crane laid his work aside and went to call upon the girl. He found her just leaving home, and fell into step beside her. For awhile she tried to rouse herself to be entertaining, or at least friendly, but the usual ease with which she chatted had deserted her, and her false gayety did not deceive the keen-minded Crane for an instant. Soon the two were silent as they walked along together. Crane’s thoughts were on the beautiful girl beside him, and on the splendid young genius under his roof, so deeply immersed in his problem that he was insensible to everything else.
“I have just left Dick,” Crane said suddenly, and paying no attention to her startled glance. “Did you ever in your life see anyone with his singleness of purpose? With all his brilliance, one idea at a time is all that he seems capable of—though that is probably why he is such a genius. He is working himself insane. Has he told you about leaving the Bureau?”
“No. Has he? Has it anything to do with what happened that day at the laboratory? I haven’t seen him since the accident, or discovery, whichever it was, happened. He came to see me at half-past ten, when he was invited for dinner—oh, Martin, I had been so angry!—and he told such a preposterous story, I’ve been wondering since if I didn’t dream it.”
“No, you didn’t dream it, no matter how wild it sounded. He said it, and it is all true. I cannot explain it to you; Dick himself cannot explain it, even to me. But I can give you an idea of what we both think it may come to.”
“Yes, do.”
“Well, he has discovered something that makes copper act mighty queer—knocks it off its feet, so to speak. That day a piece went up and never did come down.”
“Yes, that is what is so preposterous!”
“Just a moment, please,” replied the imperturbable Crane. “You should know that nothing ordinary can account for Dick’s behavior, and after what I have seen this last week I shall never again think anything preposterous. As I said, this piece of copper departed, via the window, for scenes unknown. As far as a pair of good binoculars could follow it, it held to a perfectly straight course toward those scenes. We intend to follow it in some suitable vehicle.”
He paused, looking at his companion’s face, but she did not speak.
“Building the conveyance is where I come in,” he continued in his matter-of-fact voice. “As you know, I happen to have almost as much money as Dick has brains, and some day, before the summer is over, we expect to go somewhere. We do not know where, but it will be a long way from this earth.”
There was a silence, then Dorothy said, helplessly:
“Well, go on … I can’t understand …”
“Neither can I. All I know is that Dick wants to build a heavy steel hull, and he is going to put something inside it that will take us out into space. Only occasionally do I see a little light as he tries to explain the mechanism of the thing to me.”
After enjoining upon her the strictest secrecy he repeated the story that Seaton had told him, and informed her as to the present condition of affairs.
“It’s no wonder the other chemists thought he was crazy,
