“Hamilton?” he muttered. “Who is Hamilton? Where is Hamilton?”
“You are,” said Sheldon stoutly. “Don’t you remember? Charles Francis Hamilton, professor of entomology in Brownell University?”
“Brownell University?” There came a thoughtful pause. “Yes; of course. I am Charles Francis Hamilton, Ph.D., M.D., professor of entomology. Who said that I wasn’t?”
“Then, Dr. Hamilton, you ought to be able to tell by looking at me,” and Sheldon grinned reassuringly, “that I am no scientist! I don’t know the difference between a bug and an insect; I swear I don’t! I’m just a mining engineer out of a job and down on the rocks.”
“Then,” querulously, “you didn’t come looking for—”
“For the Parnassius Aureus Giganticus?” smiled Sheldon. “No. And though you may not believe it, I don’t come looking for gold either!”
His words had a strange, unlooked-for effect. He had hoped that they might a little dispel suspicion. Instead, the madman jerked away from Paula’s hands, sought to spring to his feet, and achieved a position half-kneeling, half-squatting, his whole body shaken, a wild fury in his eyes.
“My Parnassius!” he shrieked. “My Parnassius! He comes to steal it away from me; it and my immortality with it! Curse him and curse him and curse him! He knows; he has stolen my secret. He says ‘Parnassius Aureus Giganticus’! He knows its name, the name I have given it. He says ‘Gold!’ He knows that the Parnassius is to be found only where the mother lode of the world is bared! That there is a little invisible mist, a vapory elixir, which rises from gold in the sun, and that my Parnassius lives upon it, drinks it in, and that that is why it is immortal! He knows; curse him, he knows, he knows!”
He was raging, wildly; his words came in a tumbled fury of sound like the fall of waters down a rocky cliff; his body grew tense to the last muscle, and then shook again as with an ague. Paula, upon her feet now, her hands clasped in a mute agony of suspense, turned frightened eyes from him to Sheldon.
Slowly the wreck that was Charles Francis Hamilton, one time man of scientific note, straightened up; the tall, gaunt form, swaying dangerously, stood erect. A terribly attenuated arm was flung up, then the forearm drawn across the brow as though with the motion which pushed back the streaming white hair he would clear the burning brain too.