The Very Young Man raised his head. Before him stood the microscope, with its fragment of stone gleaming in the blue light of the burning wire. He wanted to say something to show them how he felt, but no words came. He looked up into the Chemist's smiling face, and smiled back a little foolishly.
"Every day I look," said Reoh, breaking the silence. "And I see—wonderful things. But never really—can I believe."
At this moment there came a violent rapping upon the outer door. As Reoh left the room to open it, the Very Young Man picked up the bit of stone that the Chemist had just taken from the microscope.
"I wish—may I keep it?" he asked impulsively.
The Chemist smiled and nodded, and the Very Young Man was about to slip it into the pocket of his robe when Reoh hastily reentered the room, followed by Oteo. The youth was breathing heavily, as though he had been running, and on his face was a frightened look.
"Bad; very bad," said the old man, in a tone of deep concern, as they came through the doorway.
"What is it, Oteo?" asked the Chemist quickly. The boy answered him with a flood of words in his native tongue.
The Chemist listened quietly. Then he turned to his companions.
"Targo has escaped," he said briefly. "They sent word to me at home, and Oteo ran here to tell me. A crowd broke into the court-house and released him. Oteo says they went away by water, and that no one is following them."
The youth, who evidently understood English, added something else in his own language.