While he had not believed in Gouldesbrough's theories, Lord Malvin had rather liked him personally.
Now that he was compelled to believe in Gouldesbrough's theories, Lord Malvin found that he experienced a growing dislike for the man himself. And as he was a fair and honourable man, Lord Malvin did everything he possibly could to rid himself of this prejudice, with the result that while his efforts to do so were quite unavailing, he redoubled his kindness and attentions to the man he disliked.
All the scientific world knew that Sir William was perfecting some marvellous discovery. In Berlin, Paris, Petersburg, Vienna, and Buda Pesth, learned savants were writing to their confrères in London to know what this might be. The excitement was intense, the rumours were endless, and it is not too much to say that the whole scientific intellect of the globe was roused and waiting.
Now when a number of leading brains are agitated upon one subject, something of that agitation begins to stir and move in the outside world.
Already some hints had got about, and the press of Europe and America was scenting some extraordinary news.
The whole business had at length culminated in the giving of a great reception by Lord Malvin.
Everybody who mattered was asked, not only in the scientific but also in the general world.
And everybody knew, that not only was the reception given in Sir William Gouldesbrough's honour, but that he would say something more or less definite about what he had in hand.
In short, a pronouncement was to be made, and the ears of every one were tingling to hear it.
Among the idle and frivolous section of society the promised revelation had become the topic of the hour. Everything else was quite forgotten. Gerald Rathbone's disappearance was already a thing of the past. Eustace Charliewood's suicide had not lasted for the proverbial nine days as a subject of talk. But here was something quite new! Something all the more attractive because of its mystery.