ents, with the symbols of chemistry
and long mathematical computations. The man at the desk pushed them
aside to rest his lean, lined face on one thin hand. The other arm,
ending at the wrist, was on the desk before him.

[Sidenote: Sadly, sternly, the old professor reveals to his brilliant
pupil the greater path to glory.]

Students of a great university had long since ceased to speculate about
the missing hand. The result of an experiment, they knew--a hand that
was a miss of lifeless cells, amputated quickly that the living arm
might be saved--but that was some several years ago, ancient history to
those who came and went through Professor Eddinger's class room.

And now Professor Eddinger was weary--weary and old, he told himself--as
he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the interminable papers and
the stubby wrist that had ended forever his experiments and the delicate
manipulations which only he could do.

He reached slowly for a buzzing phone, but his eyes brightened at the
voice that came to him.

"I've got it--I've got it!" The words were almost incoherent. "This is
Avery, Professor--Avery! You must come at once. You will share in it; I
owe it all to you ... you will be the first to see ... I am sending a
taxi for you--"

Professor Eddinger's tired eyes crinkled to a smile. Enthusiasm like
this was rare among his youngsters. But Avery--with the face of a poet,
a dreamer's eyes and the mind of a scientist--good boy, Avery!--a long
time since he had seen him--had him in his own laboratory for two
years....

"What's this all about?" he asked.

"No--no!" said a voice; "I can't tell you--it is too big--greater than
the induction motor--greater than the electric light--it is the greatest
thing in the world. The taxi should be there now--you must come--"

A knock at the office door where a voice said, "Car for Professor
Eddinger," confirmed the excited words.

"I'll come," said the Professor, "right away."

* * * * *

He pondered, as the car whirled him across the city, on what this
greatest thing in the world might be. And he hoped with gentle
skepticism that the enthusiasm was warranted. A young man opened the car
door as they stopped. His face was flushed, Eddinger noted, hair pushed
back in disarray, his shirt torn open at the throat.

"Wait here," he told the driver and took the Professor by the arm to
hurry him into a dilapidated building.

"Not much of a la