Transcriber's note
A detailed transcriber's note can be found at the end of this book.
[Illustration]
A. D. 2000
BY
LIEUT. ALVARADO M. FULLER
U. S. A.
CHICAGO
LAIRD & LEE PUBLISHERS
1890
Entered according to act of Congress in the year eighteen hundred
and ninety, by LAIRD & LEE, in the office of the librarian of
Congress at Washington.
(All rights reserved.)
PREFACE
Lest originality of title and theme be denied, it is but justice to
myself to state that both were assumed in November, 1887. My thanks are
due to Lieutenant D. L. Brainard, Second Cavalry, for the true copy of
the record of the Greely party left in the cairn at the farthest point
on the globe ever reached by man--83 degrees 24 minutes North Latitude,
40 degrees 46 minutes West Longitude.
THE AUTHOR.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
JUNIUS COBB'S MARVELOUS DISCOVERY 9
CHAPTER II
A STARTLING PROPOSITION 31
CHAPTER III
PREPARING FOR THE TEST 45
CHAPTER IV
JEAN COLCHIS, CONSPIRATOR AND SAVANT 61
CHAPTER V
ON THE EVE OF A CENTURY'S SLEEP 80
CHAPTER VI
FAITHFUL UNTO DEATH 101
CHAPTER VII
"YOU SAY THIS IS A. D. 2000?" 108
CHAPTER VIII
SAN FRANCISCO IN THE TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY 130
CHAPTER IX
THE CENTRAL PNEUMATIC RAILROAD 150
CHAPTER X
UNDER THE CENTRAL SEA 168
CHAPTER XI
THE ARMY OF INSTRUCTION 199
CHAPTER XII
JUNIUS COBB READS A NEWSPAPER 235
CHAPTER XIII
NEW YORK CITY--POPULATION 4,000,000 245
CHAPTER XIV
THE LAW OF THE LAND 261
CHAPTER XV
THE SYMPATHETIC TELEGRAPH 278
CHAPTER XVI
CHICAGO THE METROPOLIS OF THE COUNTRY 299
CHAPTER XVII
NIAGARA FALLS HARNESSED 309
CHAPTER XVIII
THE MYSTERY OF THE COPPER CYLINDER 315
CHAPTER XIX
RESURRECTED 332
CHAPTER XX
AN AERIAL VOYAGE 347
CHAPTER XXI
THE TRANSATLANTIC LIFE-SAVING STATIONS 363
CHAPTER XXII
LOCATING THE NORTH POLE 380
CHAPTER XXIII
UNITED AT LAST 396
CHAPTER XXIV
CONCLUSION 404
A. D. 2000
CHAPTER I
"Number three! half-past eleven o'clock--and all's well!"
"All is well!" came the response from the sentry at the guard-house,
while the sharp click of his piece as he brought it to his shoulder and
the heavy tread of his retreating footsteps were all that was heard to
break the stillness that reigned supreme throughout the garrison.
It was a dark, dreary, foggy night. The heavy atmosphere seemed laden
with great masses of fleeting vapor, and the walks of the post and the
ground surrounding them were as wet as if a heavy shower had just spent
its force.
Such was the Presidio of San Francisco, California, a military post of
the United States government, on the night of November 17th, 1887. The
lights of the garrison made little effect upon that thick and saturated
atmosphere; yet the little that they did make only seemed to add more
to the depth of the surrounding gloom.
In the officers' club-room, near the main parade, was gathered a
jolly party of old and young officers. The rooms were handsomely,
even superbly, furnished. The billiard-tables were in full blast; the
card-tables were occupied; while many sat and chatted upon the various
military topics which are ever a part of the soldier's life.
In a set of officers' quarters, some distance away from the main
parade, were assembled three subalterns of the line. The room was
bright and cheerful, and the decanters upon the table showed that they
knew of the good cheer of the world. The furniture upon which the
officers sat and reclined, as also about the room, gave evidence of
refinement and education; while the cases stacked with books, near the
entrance, bespoke a tendency and desire on the part of the occupant of
the quarters for the improvement of his mind. A grate fire in the angle
threw its cheerful rays upon those present, while the luxuriousness and
warmth of the whole room was in direct contrast with the gloominess and
cold without.
Opening from the main room through a curtained door was a second room,
the inside of which was a study. There was no carpet upon the floor,
and the boards gave evidence of having been used by many feet. Tables
containing jars and many curious vessels, wires in every direction,
bottles filled and empty, maps and drawings, and instruments of
peculiar form and shape, were seen about the room.
In one corner was a large Holtz machine, whose great disc of glass
reflected back the rays from the lights in the front room.
The three men were soldiers and officers of the army.
In the center of the room, by a small table upon which was a roll of
paper, with one hand holding down the pages, while the other was raised
in a commanding gesture, stood Junius Cobb, a lieutenant in the cavalry
arm of the service. Sitting in an easy-chair near the fire, with his
legs on the fender and his eyes watching every movement of the speaker,
reclined Lester Hathaway; while midway between the table and the right
side of the room, in a large rocker, sat Hugh Craft.
Lester Hathaway was a graduate of the military academy of the United
States, as was also Hugh Craft; both were lieutenants in the army--the
former in the infantry, and the latter in the artillery branch of the
service.
Lester Hathaway was about twenty-eight years of age, tall and slim,
fair-haired, a pleasing face, languid air, and a blasé style. To him
the world was one grand sphere for enjoyment; it was his life, his
almost every thought, as to how he could pass his time in an easy and
amusing manner. Balls, parties, and dances were his special vocations.
With him there was no thought of the true hardships of life.
Young and handsome, courted by the ladies, he could not understand how
it was that others should occupy their minds with subjects of research
and study.
Hugh Craft was of a different type; yet, like Hathaway, he was tall
and thin, and about the same age; but here the likeness terminated. He
was darker than his companion, with sharp features, an aquiline nose,
and a chin denoting great firmness. His eye was piercing, and wandered
from one object to another with the rapidity of lightning. He was much
more of a student than Hathaway, delighting in all that portion of
the sciences touching the marvelous; a good listener to the views of
others. Altogether, Hugh Craft was a man worthy to be the partner of a
scientific man in a great enterprise.
Junius Cobb, the central figure in the room, deserves more than a
passing description. He was a man about thirty-three years of age, of
medium height, but of a full and well-developed form, black eyes, a
pleasing countenance, a dark mustache nearly covering his lips, square
chin, and eyebrows meeting in the center of the face--all tokens
of a great firmness and decision. He was one who had given many of
his days and nights to hard study in science, in political economy,
and, in fact, had taken a deep interest in almost all of the various
progressive undertakings of his day.
Outside of his duties, Junius Cobb had employed every spare moment of
his time in experimenting in chemistry and electricity. The room off
the sitting-room, where the three gentlemen were gathered this dark
and foggy night, was his workshop, into which no man was permitted to
go save he himself. Its mysterious contents were known to no other
person.
His friends would come and visit him, and sit for hours talking and
chatting, but no invitation was ever accorded them to enter that single
room.
"Craft," and Cobb pointed his finger at that personage in an impatient
manner, "we have often discussed these matters, I will admit, but it is
a theme I like to talk upon. Do you believe in the immortality of the
soul?"
"Why, of course," replied that person, looking surprised.
"And you, too, Hathaway?" continued Cobb, addressing the other.
"Most certainly I do," was the reply.
"Now, do either of you believe that the living body can be so prepared
that it will continue to hold the soul within its fleshly portals for
years without losing that great and unknown essence?" and Cobb fixed
his sparkling eyes upon his listeners.
"Yes," answered Craft; "but by God alone."
"I do not mean by God," quickly returned the other. "God is all
powerful; but by man?"
"Then, of course, I would say that it cannot be done."
"But if I were to show you that it was a fact, an accomplished fact,
you would, of course, admit it?"
"No, Cobb. Look here, old fellow," pettishly exclaimed Hathaway, rising
from his chair, "what is all this about, anyway?"
Cobb glanced at him with an expression of pity, and quickly replied:
"I mean, Hathaway, that it is in my power to hold the life of mortal
man within its living body for an unlimited time. I mean that I can
take your body, Hathaway, and so manipulate it that you will be, to all
appearance, dead; but your soul, or whatever you choose to call it,
will still be in your body; and further, that after a certain time you
will again come to life, having all your former freshness and youth."
Cobb stood at the table with his hand upon the pages of his book, and a
smile upon his face which seemed to say, "Deny it if you can."
Hathaway and Craft looked at him in amazement. These men had known Cobb
to be a student, but neither of them had ever thought him demented.
The proposition advanced by him seemed so terribly contrary to all the
principles of science, natural law, and life, that neither of them
could believe that the man was in earnest.
Both Hathaway and Craft had often come to Cobb's quarters, and
exchanged ideas with him concerning various and many topics; both knew
him to be a student of chemistry and philosophy, and that he worked
many hours in his little back room. They knew that he worked with
chemicals and electricity, and both knew him to be a very peculiar man,
yet neither of them had ever before seemed to be imbued with the belief
that the man was of unsound mind. The grave and startling statement
advanced by Cobb had so astonished them that it was impossible to think
him sane.
"Yes," continued Cobb, "I have found this power. I have no doubt that
it strikes you with amazement that I should even suggest such an
almost preposterous theory. I have no doubt that you almost think me
insane; but my researches in the past few years have been rewarded
by the most startling discoveries. We have all imagined, for many
years, that as soon as the body was deprived of air for a considerable
time, life would become extinct, or, in other words, that life could
not exist without air. Such is not the case--ah! do not start," he
exclaimed, seeing both Hathaway and Craft bend forward inquiringly
in their chairs. "I repeat, such is not the case. Without the oxygen
in the air, the blood of man would be white, yet it would possess
all the properties necessary to continue life. But one thing must
not be confounded with this statement: oxygen is necessary for life
_with_ action, but not necessary for life _without_ action. A strange
statement, is it not? Am I tedious?" he asked, looking at his listeners.
"No; not at all," they both exclaimed. "Please continue, for we are
very much interested."
"Well," and Cobb's eyes flashed as he warmed up to his subject, "it
was long ago discovered that there was a peculiar odor arising upon
the passage of a current of electricity through oxygen gas; this was
also perceived even in working an electrical machine. This odor was
named ozone. Both of you gentlemen are sufficiently proficient in
chemistry for me to pass over the various methods by which ozone can
be manufactured, yet I think it quite necessary that I should state a
few facts about this very remarkable gas, if, indeed, it can be called
a gas; it is really allotropic oxygen. Now, oxygen can be put into a
liquid state, or even into a solid state; yet it is most difficult
to keep it in either of those conditions--so much so that it would
be of no use for the purposes for which I desire to use it. Oxygen
is contracted by passing an electric spark through it, and ozone is
perceived by the peculiar odor arising therefrom. If the intensity of
the current is increased sufficiently, the oxygen is proportionately
decreased in bulk. Suffice it to say that oxygen can be reduced
millions of times in bulk by this simple method, always provided that
the electrical energy was sufficient at starting. You will perceive,"
and he hastily quitted the room, entered his workshop, and returned
with a small bottle fitted with a tight stopper, and containing
apparently a stick of camphor--"you will perceive," he continued,
"when I open this bottle, a most peculiar odor, a lightness in the
atmosphere, a seeming renewal of life, and a sense of languidness
passing over you."
Saying this, he took out the glass stopper and passed the bottle two
or three times in front of Hathaway and Craft. As the bottle was moved
from side to side, both of them experienced a strange sensation; it
seemed that the air was heavily charged with a something that gave
them feelings of unutterable lightness, of calm repose, and intense
satisfaction. The lights danced about in thousands of forms, yet each
appeared to possess some true and beautiful shape. They moved, they
walked and ran, yet no effort seemed to be required. It was as if they
were a part of some living thing, yet not a part: a part of it in that
they moved and had feelings coincident with it, yet not a part because
no effort was required, of brain or muscle, to be a part of it. For a
moment it seemed to each of them that a state of exertionless existence
had been reached, and then each knew no more. They lay in their chairs
apparently lifeless.
Cobb quickly replaced the stopper in the bottle, and took from his
nostrils two small pieces of sponge, which had been saturated in some
kind of solution.
Returning to the back room, he replaced the bottle on the shelf from
which he had taken it, and came back to his position by the table.
He watched Hathaway and Craft a few minutes, when, seeing no appearance
of reviving, he arose and opened the windows and wheeled their chairs
around so that the cool night air could strike them full in the face.
This done, he sat himself down near the table and seemed to watch with
great earnestness the countenances of his two friends.
He had sat this way but a moment, when a sigh escaped the lips of
Craft, his eyes opened, and he gazed about him with a most puzzled and
dazed expression.
Cobb sprang quickly to his side, and presented a glass of wine to his
lips.
"There," he said, "take some of that, old fellow; you will feel like
your former self in a moment."
Craft drank the liquor without saying a word; then, raising himself, he
looked Cobb in the eyes, and asked:
"Have I been asleep, Cobb, or what is the matter? I feel as if I had
just awakened from a most delicious slumber, a most refreshing one, and
yet I had no dreams, nor does it seem that I am fatigued in the least."
At this moment Hathaway opened his eyes, and also in a dazed manner
viewed his surroundings.
"Why, bless me, I have been asleep!" he exclaimed.
Cobb quickly filled a second glass of wine and gave it to him, saying:
"Drink that; you will feel all right in a jiffy."
Hathaway emptied the glass, and then, looking at Craft, said:
"I know now; it was the bottle, or rather the contents, that has caused
us both to fall asleep."
"Yes," said Cobb, "it was the contents of that bottle that has caused
you both to enter the first stages of death."
"How long has this sleep continued?" asked Craft.
"About ten minutes."
"And was I also asleep as long?" asked Hathaway.
"Yes; a little longer," returned Cobb. "Craft awoke first."
Pausing to light a cigar, he then resumed:
"How do you feel--sick or languid?"
"Oh, as for me, not at all," spoke up Craft. "I cannot say that I feel
any ill effect from the drug."
"Nor I," said Hathaway, "except that I am a little dry," with a laugh.
"Then take some of this wine," and Cobb filled a glass for each of
them. "It will brace up your nerves."
They drank the wine, and appeared to suffer no evil effects from their
enforced sleep.
"Will you not smoke, also?" asked Cobb, as he passed over a box of fine
Havana cigars. Each took one, and Cobb laid the box aside.
Soon the clouds of smoke rising to the ceiling renewed the scene of
warmth and sociability which had prevailed before the uncorking of the
bottle of ozone.
"You, gentlemen," said Cobb, drawing his chair to the fire, and taking
a seat near the others, "have seen pure ozone in its solid state, and
you both have felt its effect. It is the life-giving principle of
oxygen. Ozone is everywhere; in the air, of course; in all creation,
in fact. I do not wish to tire you, but if you desire, I will explain
why I said that I had the power to hold life in the human body for an
indefinite time."
"You will not tire us. Pray go on; I, for one, am most anxious to know
more of this wonderful discovery of yours," quickly returned Craft.
"I also can listen for hours to your words," answered Hathaway.
"Then, I will explain to you my researches in this direction;" and
Cobb arose and entered his little back room, soon returning with a
good-sized box, which he laid upon the table.
Craft and Hathaway watched him with an earnestness which gave evidence
of the interest they took in the strange theories which he had
advanced. Indeed, it was a most strange, not to say terrible, power for
a man to possess--that of holding the soul of man within its fleshly
portals during his pleasure.
After Cobb had placed the box upon the table, he opened the roll of
papers which he had before him at the time he got the bottle of ozone.
Referring to one of the pages, he looked toward Hathaway and said:
"Can you tell me how many cubic feet of air the average man requires
in every twenty-four hours?"
Hathaway, taken by surprise, hesitated, blushed, and admitted that he
had forgotten the exact amount.
"Well," continued the other, quickly, "it is not to be supposed that
you should remember the answer to such a question, so I will tell you.
A healthy man, in action, consumes about 686,000 cubic inches in every
twenty-four hours. Now, what I wish to have you understand by that,
is this: that the average man requires about 137,200 cubic inches of
oxygen in every twenty-four hours. This is the accepted way of putting
it; in reality, he needs the ozone contained in that amount of oxygen.
I do not desire that you should receive the impression that the oxygen
is not needed for the man, but that the ozone only is required for the
continuance of life where there is no action. I may surprise you when
I say that each of you draws into your lungs, every day, over seven
pounds of oxygen gas, but such is the case. Now, in those seven pounds
of oxygen there are just two grains of pure ozone. Do not interrupt
me," as Craft attempted to speak; "I know what you would say--that that
is contrary to the accepted opinion on the subject, and that the amount
is much greater--but let me tell you that my researches have found it
entirely different: two grains only, to seven pounds of oxygen, or
thirty-five pounds of common air. You will perceive by the above that
each of you requires nearly two grains of ozone per day, or about 700
grains per year. Now, if by any freak of nature you could remain in a
perfectly passive state, doing nothing, exercising no action at all,
this amount of 700 grains would fall to about 400 grains; that is,
the blood would require that amount to continue to perform its vital
functions. Thus you see that you would require for the maintenance
of life for a hundred years, 40,000 grains. This is equivalent to
nearly seven pounds of ozone. Ozone, as you have already ascertained,
cannot be taken into the system through the nostrils without serious
consequences. It is too powerful, and would soon cause paralysis and
death; but it can be taken into the system through the pores of the
body without danger to life. Again, ozone can be kept in the solid
state under the pressure of two atmospheres; reduce this pressure, and
it will begin to evaporate. Crystals of stronetic acid, you both know,
quickly decompose carbonic acid gas. Now, the whole secret is this:
If insensibility is first produced by any of the various means at our
command, and the subject is then placed in a receptacle sufficiently
strong to withstand a pressure of over two atmospheres, and surrounded
by crystals of ozone and stronetic acid in certain proportions,
insensibility will continue, and the subject will in no way change,
save a slight decrease in weight. Life is there, and will continue
there until the ozone is entirely exhausted. To compensate for the
loss in weight, the subject is bound about the abdomen with cloths
saturated in certain oils and preparations which I have ascertained
will furnish all the nourishment required for a given period."
Craft and Hathaway could not help looking at this man in amazement.
Was this the man with whom they had played billiards, with whom they
had drank and associated, never dreaming that he was engaged in any
such investigations? Was he, indeed, crazy? and were they the listeners
to a lunatic's chattering discourse?
Such were the thoughts that passed through the minds of both.
Cobb stood watching the effect of his words upon them. He noted every
change in their countenances; he read every thought as it came to their
minds. He spoke not a word, waiting for them to give utterance to the
skeptical ideas which he knew they entertained.
"It is too strange! It is too contrary to natural law and science! It
is impossible!" and Craft arose as if to go.
"Yes, Cobb," said Hathaway, "this is too much; it is a fancy you have
gotten, but a fancy which can never be realized. You have allowed your
theories to become shadows, your shadows to become tangible, but the
tangibility is apparent to no one but yourself." He too arose from his
chair.
A smile played upon the lips of Cobb, a smile of perfect
self-satisfaction. His eyes shone as if his very soul centered in them.
"Look!" he cried; "look! and behold for yourselves whether my words are
worthy of consideration!"
Saying this, he raised the lid of the box on the table; then, stepping
back and pointing his finger at it, exclaimed, in a tone of command, a
tone of majestic confidence in his own power:
"Look! Behold life in death; death in life!"
Craft took a step forward, and glanced into the box. A puzzled and
ludicrous expression came over his face, his lips parted, then,
finally, his white teeth showed themselves as he gave vent to a loud
and prolonged laugh.
Hathaway had by this time advanced and obtained a view of the contents
of the box.
"A cat, by all that's holy!" he exclaimed; "a poor dead cat!" and he
too joined in the merriment of his friend.
Cobb stood still, not in the least endeavoring to check their hilarity,
but waiting for them to get through.
Again the others looked at the cat in the box, and again they laughed
heartily; but seeing Cobb so quiet, it at last dawned upon them that
there was something peculiar in the surroundings of the animal.
In the box which had been brought out and placed upon the table was a
large Maltese cat, lying upon its side on an asbestos pillow. The head
of the animal was wrapped with bandages, as was also the under part of
the body for a space of about two inches above its thighs. The cushion
upon which it lay was placed within what appeared to be a zinc coffin
of something under ten inches in height. At the head of the cat was a
small saucer-shaped vessel with a perforated top, while surrounding
the whole was a space of over four inches in width. In this space were
the remains of a few crystals of some white substance. The box seemed
to be lined with glass, and a glass top covered the whole, its sides
seemingly glued to the sides of the box.
"Come," said Craft, noticing that Cobb was waiting for some remark from
one or the other of them; "tell us, Cobb, why you have that cat lying
in that box. Is this the principle you have been speaking of? Are we
really to believe that you have in that case an animal undergoing the
treatment you have spoken of?"
"Gentlemen," answered Cobb, with a feeling of pride, "you have guessed
it. One year ago to-night, at twelve o'clock, I caused this poor animal
to become insensible; then placing it in this case, with its mouth and
nostrils covered, with bandages of nourishment about its loins, with a
cup of stronetic acid at its head, and crystals of ozone surrounding
the body, I hermetically sealed the case. From my experiments, I
ascertained that the amount of ozone necessary for the continuance
of life in an animal of this size, and for a period of one year, was
1,425 grains. This amount I put into the case. You can easily see
how near correct I was in my calculations, for there are not over ten
grains of ozone left on the floor of the box to-night. I asked you
here, gentlemen, not only to listen to my lecture on ozone, but to
witness the return to life of this animal."
All laughter in Hathaway and Craft had changed to a grave attention to
all that was said by their friend.
At last it seemed to them that there was something, indeed, in the
theory he advanced. In an attitude of intense expectation, they awaited
his next move.
"As I have said," continued Cobb, "that cat was placed in this
condition one year ago to-night. It is my intention to bring it to life
again this evening; but before we begin, let us take a glass of wine
and light our cigars, and then to business."
He filled their glasses from the decanter on the table, and each took a
fresh cigar from the box.
Craft again sat himself down in his chair and leisurely puffed clouds
of smoke from his mouth, while Hathaway stood with his back to the fire.
Both were now prepared for anything which Cobb might advance, for it
seemed to each of them that it was no longer a question of "Is it
true?" but a "fact only to be proved."
Cobb, having left the room, soon returned with a small box containing
six cells of Grenet battery and about ten feet of wire attached to two
pieces of copper. These he placed upon the table.
Taking the box containing the cat, he carried it to the front window
and set it upon a chair. Entering once again his little work-room, he
brought out three sponges and as many strips of common linen, and then
from a bottle in his hand he sprinkled the sponges well. Approaching
Craft, he said:
"Let me bind this upon your nostrils, and at the same time caution you
not to open your mouth, but to breathe through the linen bandage and
sponge."
Craft arose and submitted to the operation of having his face below the
eyes covered by the sponge and bandages.
Cobb then approached Hathaway and treated him in like manner.
This having been finished, he wrapped his own face carefully with the
third bandage. His mouth was purposely left free that he might explain
the few remaining acts in his strange comedy.
Going across the room, he threw open the window to its full extent;
then coming back again, he opened the window before which stood the
chair containing the box. Turning to his friends, he answered their
mute inquiries by stating that he took these precautions lest the
remaining ozone in the case should, in escaping, overpower them. The
air passing through the room from the back window would quickly carry
out the evaporating ozone.
"I will break the glass top of the case," he said, "and quickly seize
the cat, withdraw it, and throw the box out of the window."
Cobb now adjusted the cloth about his mouth, while the others came
closer to him that they might not miss any part of the proceedings.
Taking a small hammer from a shelf near by, he struck the glass a smart
blow, shattering it into many pieces; quickly seizing the cat, he
drew it out of the case and threw the latter out of the window. Next,
tearing off the bandages about its loins and head, he clapped the two
copper discs against the body of the animal--one upon its back and one
upon its breast, just over the heart; then dropping the zincs into the
fluid of the battery, completed the circuit by touching a push-button.
The effect was startling: the poor animal gave a gasp, a shiver ran
through its frame, its chest heaved a moment, and it breathed.
Quickly taking it to the fire, he rubbed it briskly with a towel for
a couple of minutes, and then laid it down upon the warm rug near the
grate, that its body might receive the heat from the fire.
The animal lay but a moment where he had placed it; it soon arose on
its legs, walked around once or twice, and then quietly lay down in a
new position.
Taking the bandages from his face, Cobb told the others to do likewise.
The air in the room was only slightly impregnated with the odor of
ozone.
The windows being closed, a saucer of milk was placed before the cat,
and the animal instantly arose and lapped its contents.
It seemed to all present as if the animal had just arisen from a sound
sleep. There was no indication in its manner that it had undergone any
new or unusual treatment.
It was strange! It was more than strange--it was marvelous!
No longer was there any doubt in the mind of either Craft or Hathaway.
The theory had been plainly and truly demonstrated. Cobb had become
possessed of a power unknown to any other living man. What would he do
with this power? was the question that immediately came to the mind of
each. Would he use it for good, or for evil? Was it a play-thing that
he had discovered? or had he worked out this problem for some great and
grand undertaking?
"What next?" inquired Hathaway. "What is the next act in this drama?"
"To bed," said Cobb, glancing up at the clock. "It is now ten minutes
past one. To-morrow evening meet me here. Say nothing, not even a word,
about what you both have witnessed and heard to-night. Have I your
word?" he asked, inquiringly.
"Yes, certainly," they replied together; "if you wish us not to speak
of it."
"I do indeed wish it, and trust that nothing will cause you to divulge
a single part of this evening's occurrences. Good-night!"
Shaking their hands at the door, he again said good-night as they
descended the stairway.
Returning, he filled the grate with more coal, and threw himself down,
without undressing, upon the cot in the corner of the room. A moment
later, the deep sound of his breathing and the low purring of the cat
on the rug were the only sounds heard in the room.