“That is beyond anything I ever saw,” said Hamerly at length, breaking the silence. “I have observed every known gas under the influence of current, but never anything like this.”
“Nor I,” said Tom. “But there may be no time to spare. Let’s try it with the spectroscope.”
As Tom and Dorothy bent over the instrument, I asked Hamerly, “What do you expect to find from the spectroscope? What does it do?”
“It breaks down light,” answered Hamerly, “by means of a prism, as a prismatic chandelier or a prismatic glass thermometer throws the spectrum of a sunbeam on the floor, breaking the white light of the sun into a shifting mass of color that changes from red, through orange and green to violet. Every different glowing gas gives off a slightly different light. We can tell by the spectroscope whether the light from this gas is the same as any we have known before, or whether it is different. If the light waves sent out are unlike any recognized before, we can be sure we have a new gas.”
Tom was turning a screw, with his eye glued to a small telescope. “Change that tube a bit to the right, Hamerly,” he said, and it was changed. “Now a bit higher. No, not so high, a bit lower now. There you are.”
He gazed long and intently, then rose, motioning Hamerly in silence to take his place. Dorothy followed Hamerly, and Swenton followed her. I ended, but I could distinguish nothing save some lines crossing a scale placed within the tube. As I rose from the stool, Tom reached up to throw on the lights. As he faced around, Hamerly met him with outstretched hand.
“It is only given to a handful of scientists in a century,” he said, “to find a new element, to discover one of those units from which the world is made. I believe you have done it this afternoon.”
“It is a new, elementary gas,” said Dorothy. “You found it, Tom, when you climbed that table.”