“Read off,” said Tom, and a whole series of numerals came from Dorothy’s lips, at each of which Jones nodded his head. As she ended she looked inquiringly at Tom.
“Right,” said he. “Now reverse the beam to find the slit.”
Jones brought a small scale, with lights mounted with flexible cords. He placed it across the beam, sighted through it as Tom threw off the lights, and, after a brief manipulation, threw a switch. All turned to gaze at the belt. Through a single slit an almost geometric line of light shone forth.
“Beautiful! beautiful!” cried Tom; and Dorothy cried, “Oh, Jim! oh, Tom! we’ve got it.”
My name came first to her hour of triumph. I had time to notice that, before the lights went on once more. Tom took a dozen hasty readings, and rapidly read them off. Another period of rapid computation followed, then one by one, Dorothy leading, they made a swift survey of maps. More and more anxious grew the trio as they went on. Map followed map, till Dorothy came to a final one, made her last measurement, and sat back in apparently complete bewilderment. Tom, by a different route, reached the same map and drew it from her, shaking his head vehemently, and Jones, laboring heavily along in the rear, finally stretched his hand for the same sheet.
“What have you got, Jones?” said Tom sharply.
“Tokio, Japan,” said Jones. “What do you get?”
“Tokio, confound it!” said Tom.
Dorothy sat back in her chair and began to laugh at his disgusted tone. “Tom, you get excited too easily. How do you know that he may not be there!”