It was the laboratory at the top of the building that offered to heedless spirits the greatest temptation. Here both the chemistry and the physics classes performed their experiments and made their recitations. Mr. Cary, the instructor, was neither incompetent nor a weakling; but he couldn’t be in the laboratory all the time nor in all parts of it at the same time. Interesting experiments were tried that had no place in the text-book. For two weeks a jar hidden in the corner served as a receptacle for odds and ends of chemicals, and was visited surreptitiously every day by various members of the class, curious to see what new color it had taken on. Reeves discovered that a cent could be silvered by dipping it in nitric acid, then in mercury, and then, for an instant, in the acid again. Thereupon a mania for silvering objects suddenly developed which had to be repressed by official order. With a piece of glass tubing drawn to a point and attached by a rubber hose to a faucet, Trask found that he could throw a fine jet of water to a considerable distance. He used to train this with great effect on persons standing yards away, the spray being invisible but very distinctly felt. It struck Hardie one day in the back of the neck just above his collar, as he was standing beside Mr. Cary’s desk. He couldn’t turn round or dodge the stream, for Mr. Cary was looking over his note-book, and any movement would have betrayed the offenders. So he stood helpless, furtively swabbing with his handkerchief at the back of his head, but failing with all his efforts to dam the stream that trickled down his back.
Impunity encourages. One day at recess, some scapegrace made an obnoxious mixture in an open dish by means of iron sulphide and hydrochloric acid, and fled for his life, leaving the laboratory door open. The fumes descended the stairways and reached the noses of innocent sufferers below. Mr. Westcott and Mr. Cary arrived at the laboratory simultaneously, hot on the scent, and took counsel together. Later in the day Mr. Westcott called the laboratory classes into his room and demanded the culprit. No one volunteering, he explained the danger and wrong of fooling in the laboratory, and declared that he should punish severely any further misdemeanor, even if it were necessary to inflict the penalty on the whole class.
As Mr. Westcott was not given to idle threats, there was seriousness on the top floor—for a time.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE SHOOTING MATCH
Saturdays Roger usually had to himself. On these days he took advantage of his freedom to visit the library or a museum, or strolled about the city, entertaining himself with the shop windows and the mob of bargain-hunters. Occasionally he hunted up some landmark of history which appealed to his interest, turning aside on the way for a glimpse of the waterside or the markets or the queer foreign quarter where the native-born American feels himself a trespasser and is grateful for the presence of a policeman a block away. As he was new to the fascinating variety of city scenes, his attention was often caught by objects which his town-bred companions passed without noticing, either because they lacked curiosity, or because familiarity with city streets had made them indifferent.
On two or three occasions, while traversing an irregular old square, Roger had noticed a second-story sign bearing the words: “Professor Pillar, Magicians’ Supplies and Novelties. Outfits for Professionals and Amateurs. Come In and See Us.” One morning in February he decided to accept this invitation. He found himself in a little dusty room packed full of juggler’s paraphernalia. A friendly old man with very nimble fingers greeted him warmly, and pressed upon him various tricks and trinkets with such persuasiveness that Roger left the wizard’s cave poorer by a dollar and a half, and richer by a variety of queer acquisitions.
When he reached his room, he spread out his purchases on the desk before him and assured himself with some heat that it was unquestionably true that a fool and his money are soon parted. While he was thus making himself uncomfortable with reproaches, Mike happened in and became enthusiastic over the collection.
“I’ll sell them to you,” offered Roger.
Mike considered. “How much?”