Putting his arm about Cobb’s neck, Colchis looked him in the eyes with a kind and loving expression:
“Say no more; make no excuses; I surely would not pry into your secrets. We all have undertakings, we all have periods of our lives concerning which we do not care to communicate to the world. Your secrets are yours, Junius; I do not feel hurt in the least that you enlighten me not upon them.”
“But I know your curiosity has been aroused, and you naturally have wondered why I have wanted all this ozone, especially when it has taken such an expenditure of money and time to procure it.”
“Yes, it has; but it is gone now. I no longer have any curiosity on the subject. To-morrow morning I will have the full amount that you have requested, 45,000 grains.”
“How much have I had already?”
“In August, a year ago, you had about ninety grains, and in the following October, a little over 1,500 more.”
“Yes; that was for the experiment with the cat.” He had spoken without thinking.
Colchis looked up, surprised; a curious expression came over his face, but he said nothing.
“Yes,” he continued, “I remember now. There were about 1,600 grains made by the old process. Had we been compelled to follow that method, we would never have completed our task.”
“True, my boy! It was a lucky day for you, I have no doubt, when we hit upon the idea we have since employed.”