“Now, that is about the deduction your mental apparatus would make!” sneered the inventor.
“But can it be possible that you have constructed something that actually works?” I cried. “And you've sold it—actually sold it?”
“I have sold it, and there's no 'actually' about it!”
And Hawkins stalked majestically away through the arch and into the yard beyond.
The idea of one of Hawkins' inventions actually in practical operation was almost too weird for conception. He must be heading for it; and if it existed I must see it.
I followed.
Hawkins strode to the rear of the yard without turning. About us on every side were high wooden walls, the storage bins of the company.
Up the side of one wall ran a ladder, and Hawkins commenced the perpendicular ascent with the same matter-of-fact air that one would wear in walking up-stairs.
“What are you doing that for? Exercise?” I called, when he paused some twenty-five feet in the air.
“If you wish to see the Crano-Scale at work, follow me. If not, stay where you are,” replied Hawkins.