“Then it is not a gem?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Not if I'm a jeweller. Whoever heard of a
stone without weight? It has no gravity, that is, apparently. I doubt
whether it is a substance. I don't know what it is.”
It was puzzling. I would have given a good deal just then for a few
words with Dr. Holcomb. The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his pocket.
How had he held it a prisoner? The professor had use for it in some
scientific work! No wonder! Certainly it was not a jewel. What could it
be? It was solid. It was lighter than air. Could it be a substance? If
not; what is it?
“What would you advise?”
In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone. He gave a number.
“Hello. Say, is Ed there? This is Phil. Tell him to step to the phone.
Hello! Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump. Something to show
you. Too busy! No, you're not. Not for this. I'm going to teach you some
chemistry. No; this is serious. What is it? I don't know. What's lighter
than air? Lots of things? Oh, I know. But what solid? That's why I'm
asking. Come over. All right. At once.”
He hung up the receiver.
“My brother,” he spoke. “It has passed beyond my province and into his.
He is a chemist. As an expert he may give you a real opinion.”
Surely we needed one. It was against reason. It had taken me
completely off my balance. I took a chair and joined the others in the
contemplation of the blue dot on the ceiling. We could speculate and
conjecture; but there was not one of us deep enough even to start a
theory. Plainly it was what should not be. We had been taught physics
and science; we had been drilled to fundamentals. If this thing could
be, then the foundations upon which we stood were shattered. But one
little law! Back in my mind was buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot.
They were woven together. Some law that had eluded the ken of mankind.
The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that clinched
like rivets. He was a bit impatient. He looked keenly at his brother.
“Well, Phil, what is it?” He pulled out a watch, “I haven't much time.”
There was a contrast between them. The jeweller was fat and complacent.
He merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband and a stubby
finger elevated toward the jewel. He seemed to enjoy it.
“You're a chemist, Ed. Here's a test for your wisdom. Can you explain
that? No, over here. Above your head. That jewel?”
The other looked up.
“What's the idea? New notion for decoration? Or”?--a bit testily--“is
this a joke?” He was a serious man; his black eyes and the nose spoke
his character.
The jeweller laughed gently.
“Listen, Ed--” Then he went into explanation; when he was through the
chemist was twitching with excitement.
“Get me a ladder. Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can reach
it. Sounds impossible, but if it's so, it's so; it must have an
explanation.”
Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped upon
the polished surface of the table. He was a tall man; he could just
barely reach it with the tip of his finger. He could move it; but each
time it clung as to a magnet. After a minute of effort he gave it up.
When he looked down he was a different man; his black eyes glowed with
wonder.
“Can't make it,” he said. “Get a step-ladder. Strange!”
With the ladder it was easy. He plucked it off the ceiling. We pressed
about the table. The chemist turned it about with his fingers.
“I wonder,” he was saying. “It's a gem. Apparently. You say it has no
gravity. It can't be. Whoop!” He let it slip out of his fingers. Again
it popped on its way to the ceiling. He caught it with a deft movement
of his hand. “The devil! Did you ever see! And a solid! Who owns this?”
That brought it back to me. I explained what I could of the manner of my
possession.
“I see. Very interesting. Something I've never
seen--and--frankly--something strictly against what I've been taught.
Nevertheless, it's not impossible. We are witnesses at least. Would you
care if I take this over to the laboratory?”
It was a new complication. If it were not a jewel there was a chance of
its being damaged. I was as anxious as he; but I had been warned as to
its possession.
“I shan't harm it. I'll see to that. I have suspicions and I'd like to
verify them. A chemist doesn't blunder across such a thing every day. I
am a chemist.” His eyes glistened.
“Your suspicions?” I asked.
“A new element.”
This gem. A new element. Perhaps that would explain the Blind Spot. It
was not exactly of earth. Everything had confirmed it.
“You--A new element? How do you account for it? It defies your laws.
Most of your elements are evolved through tedious process. This is
picked up by chance.”
“That is so. But there are still a thousand ways. A meteor, perhaps; a
bit of cosmic dust--there are many shattered comets. Our chemistry
is earthly. There are undoubtedly new elements that we don't know of.
Perhaps in enormous proportion.”
I let him have it. It was the only night I had been away from the ring.
I may say that it is the only time I have been free from its isolation.
When I called at his office next day I found he had merely confirmed his
suspicions. It defied analysis; there was no reaction. Under all tests
it was a stranger. The whole science that had been built up to explain
everything had here explained nothing. However there was one thing that
he had uncovered--heat. Perhaps I should say magnetism. It was cold to
man. I have spoken about the icy blue of its colour. It was cold even to
look at. The chemist placed it in my hand.
“Is it not so?”
It was. The minute it touched my palm I could sense the weird horror of
the isolation; the stone was cold. Just like a piece of ice.
This was the first time I had ever had it in direct contact with the
flesh. Set in the ring its impulse had always been secondary.
“You notice it? It is so with me. Now then. Just a minute.”
He pressed a button. A young lady answered his ring; she glanced first
at myself and then at the chemist.
“Miss Mills, this is Mr. Wendel. He is the owner of the gem. Would you
take it in your hand? And please tell Mr. Wendel how it feels--”
She laughed; she was a bit perplexed.
“I don't understand”--she turned to me--“we had the same dispute
yesterday. See, Mr. White says that it's cold; but it is not. It is
warm; almost burning. All the other girls think just as I do.”
“And all the men as I do,” averred the chemist, “even Mr. Wendel.”
“Is it cold to you?” she asked. “Really--”
It was a turn I hadn't looked for. It was akin to life--this relation to
sex. Could it account for the strange isolation and the weariness? I was
a witness to its potency. Watson! I could feel myself dragging under. I
had just one question:
“Tell me, Miss Mills. Can you sense anything else; I mean beyond its
temperature?”
She smiled a bit. “I don't know what you mean exactly. It is a beautiful
stone. I would like to have it.”
“You think its possession would make you happy?”
Her eyes sparkled.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “I know it would! I can feel it!”
It was so. Whatever there was in the bit of sapphirine blue, it had
life. What was it? It had relation to sex. In the strict line of fact it
was impossible.
When we were alone again I turned to the chemist.
“Is there anything more you uncovered? Did you see anything in the
stone?”
He frowned. “No. Nothing else. This magnetism is the only thing. Is
there anything more?”
Now I hadn't said anything about its one great quality. He hadn't
stumbled across the image of the two men. I couldn't understand it. I
didn't tell him. Perhaps I was wrong. Down inside me I sensed a subtle
reason for secrecy. It is hard to explain. It was not perverseness; it
was a finer distinction; perhaps it was the influence of the gem. I took
it back to the jeweller again and had it reset.