"Formulas, formulas, formulas. What's this? Here are some marginal annotations."
"Unbehasslich," read Trendon. "Let's see. That means 'highly unsatisfactory,' or words to that effect. Hi! Here's where the old man loses his temper. Listen: 'May the devil take Carroll and Crum for careless'--h'm--well, 'pig-dogs.' Now, where do Carroll and Crum come in?"
"They're a firm of analytical chemists in Washington," said the captain. "When I was on the ordnance board I used to get their circulars."
"Fits in. What? More English? Worse than the German, this is."
The writing, beginning evenly enough at the top of a page, ran along for a line or two, then fell, sprawling in huge, ragged characters the full length. Trendon stumbled among them, indignantly.
"June 1, 1904," he read. "It is done. Triumph. (German word.) Eureka. Es ist gefillt. From the (can't make out that word) of the inspiration--god-like power--solution of the world-problems. Why, the old fool is crazy! And his writing is crazier. Can't make head or tail of it."
The captain turned several more pages. They were blank. "At any rate, it seems to be the end," he said.
"I should hope so," returned the other, disgustedly.
He took the book on his knees, fluttering the leaves between thumb and finger. Suddenly he checked, cast back, and threw the book wide open.
"Here beginneth a new chapter," said he, quietly.