“Up here, doc. There are things in the world with which we may not tamper. I tried it. Somebody had to do it and somebody has to do it yet. You remember Dr. Holcomb; he was a great man; he was after the secret of life. He began it.”
Dr. Hansen started.
“Lord!” he exclaimed, looking at us all; “you don't mean this man is mixed up in the Blind Spot?”
We nodded. Watson smiled; again he dropped back into inertia; the speech he had made was his longest yet; the brandy was coming into effect.
“Give him brandy,” the doctor said; “it's as good as anything. It will hold him together and give him life for a while. Here.” He reached into his pocket and flicked something into the glass. “That will help him. Gentlemen, do you know what it means? I had always thought! I knew Dr. Holcomb! Crossing over the border! It may not be done! The secret of life is impossible. Yet—”
Watson opened his eyes again; his spirit seemed suddenly to flicker into defiance.
“Who said it was impossible? Who said it? Gentlemen, it IS possible. Dr. Holcomb—pardon me. I do not wish to appear a sot; but this brandy is about the only thing to hold me together. I have only a few hours left.”
He took the glass, and at one gulp downed the contents. I do not know what the doctor had dropped into it. Chick revived suddenly, and a strange light blazed up in his eyes, like life rekindled.
“Ah, now I am better. So?”
He turned to us all; then to the doctor.