Chase left her there in the starlight and returned to the house, holding
up the document that clinched the sale.
“I’ve got it, but she declares that she will never marry my son. She
requests him not to return to this place before August, 1922, when she
will be glad to see him and his bride.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Dr. Rich spoke.
“I’m sorry to hear this news. She has burned her bridges, and I’m afraid
she’ll regret it, as the island now called Paris regretted burning its
bridges against Julius Caesar.”
Marvin looked steadily at the doctor, and came to a decision.
“She can’t be blamed, sir, but I’m off tonight for New York.”
He drew Grein’s letter from his pocket and handed it to his father, who
read it with exclamations of pleasure.
“Boy, I’ve been expecting something like this. Dr. Rich, I’d like you to
see what a good judge thinks of this lad.”
Dr. Rich read, and shook Marvin by the hand. “My dear professor, I am
glad that one institution does not demand a German doctorate before it
recognizes ability. But I can’t make head or tail of what this chemist
writes. Mr. Ferry, this heathen language is more in your line.”
Asher Ferry put on his eye-glasses and studied the letter.
“Well, I get some of it. Marvin is to do no teaching, but is expected to
help with administration. Most of his time he will spend in a
laboratory. Young man, are you coming back here in August, 1922?”
“Certainly.”
“Well, there’s going to be trouble about coal before that time. Send me
your articles on coal.”
“I shall hardly be writing on that subject.”
“Then send me whatever you do write. Just put your name on the wrapper,
so’s my secretary won’t think it’s from a crank.”
“Thank you.”
“Marvin, I notice that when we get an invitation and my wife just says
thank you, we ain’t a-going.”
A faint smile appeared on Marvin’s lips.
“Young man,” said Asher Ferry sharply, “if my chemists can’t follow you.
I’ll hire one that can. You and I had a pretty good talk on the boat,
and you didn’t seem to think me such a damn fool then. I know you ain’t
much interested in coal. What you want is to turn some substance into
some other substance—change the atoms—and make use of the energy. But
there’s one thing I’d like to know before we part. Why has most of the
elements got fractional weights?”
“Because they are mixtures.”
“I don’t understand that.”
“Well, weight depends on the nucleus of an atom, and we don’t know much
about the pattern of the nucleus yet. But take any atom, and all you
need to keep it the same atom is the same balance between nucleus and
moons. A nucleus having six positive charges bound by three negative
will give lithium just as surely as seven positive bound by four
negative. Ordinary lithium is a mixture of a lighter lithium and a
heavier lithium.”
“Then what’s called pure elements ain’t really pure?”
“Probably not. I could tell you more about it if I knew what a chap
named Aston has been doing recently in England.”
“Well, before you can change one element into another, you’ve got to get
it pure, ain’t you?”
“Exactly.”
“I see. You reckon you’ll spend a few year on fractions?”
“I may spend my whole life on them.”
“That’s the right spirit, Marvin. Now, whenever you get rid of a
fraction, I wish you’d drop me a note. Will you?”
“I will.”
“Good for you. And now I think I’ll go to bed, if your father will keep
me company on the island.”
A few minutes later Marvin stopped by the Tarpeian on his way to his
canoe.
“Darling, I’m off. I don’t blame you for being unwilling to leave your
father. May I write to you every day for the next three years?”
“I’d rather you wouldn’t. Please don’t write except to say that you have
found somebody else.”
“Then it will be three years of solid silence. But I’ll be back before
your birthday in August, 1922.”