"Not so accurate as your watches, of course," the Chemist answered. "But
still, it serves the purpose. These ten longer lines, you see, mark the
ten eclipses that constitute one of our days. The shorter lines between
indicate halves and quarter intervals."

"Then it is only good for one day?" asked the Very Young Man. "How do
you set it?"

"It resets automatically each day, at the beginning of the first
eclipse. This disc," the Chemist pointed to the disc floating on the
water in the lower compartment. "This disc rises with the water on which
it is floating. When it reaches the top of it, it comes in contact with
a simple mechanism--you'll see it up there--which opens a gate below and
drains out the water in a moment. So that every morning it is emptied
and starts filling up again. All that is needed is to keep this bowl
full of water."

"It certainly seems very practical," observed the Big Business Man. "Are
there many in use?"

"Quite a number, yes. This clock was invented by Reoh, some thirty years
ago. He is the greatest scientist and scholar we have." The old man
smiled deprecatingly at this compliment.

"Are these books?" asked the Very Young Man; he had wandered over to the
table and was fingering one of the bound sheets of parchment.

"They are Reoh's chronicles," the Chemist answered. "The only ones of
their kind in Arite."

"What's this?" The Very Young Man pointed to another instrument.

"That is an astronomical instrument, something like a sextant--also an
invention of Reoh's. Here is a small telescope and----" The Chemist
paused and went over to another table standing at the side of the room.

"That reminds me, gentlemen," he continued; "I have something here in
which you will be greatly interested."

"What you--will see," said Reoh softly, as they gathered around the
Chemist, "you only, of all people, can understand. Each day I look, and
I wonder; but never can I quite believe."

"I made this myself, nearly ten years ago," said the Chemist, lifting up
the instrument; "a microscope. It is not very large, you see; nor is it
very powerful. But I want you to look through it." With his
cigar-lighter he ignited a short length of wire that burned slowly with
a brilliant blue spot of light. In his hand he held a small piece of
stone.

"I made this microscope hoping that I might prove with it still more
conclusively my original theory of the infinite smallness of human life.
For many months I searc