"Not so distant as you may imagine," I responded significantly; and then I told him all that I had seen and heard of the new flying machine.
The professor listened with serious attention, but manifested neither astonishment nor scepticism.
"What do you think about it?" I asked. "What should I do in the case?"
"Well, I hardly know," he replied doubtfully. "It is rather out of my line, and after my experience with Mars the other night, I am not inclined to dogmatise. At all events, I should like to see and try the machine before giving an opinion."
"I will arrange for that with the inventor."
"Possibly I can find out something about him from my American friends—if he is genuine. What's his name again?"
"Carmichael—Nasmyth Carmichael."
"Nasmyth Carmichael," repeated Gazen, musingly. "It seems to me I've heard the name somewhere. Yes, now I recollect. When I was a student at Cambridge, I remember reading a textbook on physics by Professor Nasmyth Carmichael, an American, and a capital book it was—beautifully simple, clear, and profound like Nature herself. Professors, as a rule, and especially professors of science, are not the best writers in the world. Pity they can't teach the economy of energy without wasting that of their readers. Carmichael's book was not a dead system of mathematics and figures, but rather a living tale, with illustrations drawn from every part of the world. I got far more help from it than the prescribed treatises, and the best of that was a liking for the subject. I believe I should have been plucked without it."
"The very man, no doubt."
"He was remarkably sane when he wrote that book, whatever he is now. As to his character, that is another question. Given a work of science, to find the character of the author. Problem."