He tapped his forehead as he spoke. Then he became quiet, and looked intently at Harry. The old man’s hands went beneath the desk.
His eyes became wild and staring; then suddenly he whipped out an automatic revolver and leveled it at Harry. His lips broke forth with an insane laugh.
HARRY instinctively raised himself from his chair. But he caught himself as he was about to leap forward. His better judgment dominated his mind.
While the professor still flourished the automatic, Harry settled back in his chair, and smiled indulgently.
Professor Whitburn thrust the gun in a desk drawer, without removing his eyes from Harry’s countenance. Then the old man’s lips formed a sour smile.
“I have demonstrated my point,” said the professor, in his rasping voice. “That is a test which I frequently use. Some men jump at me, and I toss the gun aside. Others plead, or throw up their hands. A very few behave as you have done.
“Young man, I observed every emotion that passed through your mind. First you were startled. Then came the desire for action, coupled with fear — natural fear. Then reason withheld you. You thought you were dealing with a lunatic; you sought to outwit me.”
He wagged a long, thin forefinger toward Harry.
“Study cannot teach a man to behave as you did,” he said. “Your actions were the result of a mind that is both quick and experienced.
“You knew how to encounter danger. Therefore you would be willing to face danger. You are the type of man I need.”