But Tommy took Von Holtz by the shoulders. And Tommy’s hands were the firm and sinewy hands of a sportsman, if his brain did happen to be the brain of a scientist. Von Holtz writhed in his grip.
“There is only one substance which could be the metal I need, Von Holtz,” he said gently. “Only one substance is nearly three-dimensional. Metallic ammonium! It’s known to exist, because it makes a mercury amalgam, but nobody has been able to isolate it because nobody has been able to give it a fourth dimension—duration in time. Denham did it. You can do it. And I need it, and you’d better set to work at the job. You’ll be very sorry if you don’t, Von Holtz!”
Smithers said with a vast calmness.
“I got me a hunch. So if y’want his neck broke….”
Tommy released Von Holtz and the lean young man gasped and sputtered and gesticulated wildly in a frenzy of rage.
“He’ll make it,” said Tommy coldly. “Because he doesn’t dare not to!”
Von Holtz went out of the laboratory, his weak-looking eyes staring and wild, and his mouth working.
“He’ll be back,” said Tommy briefly. “You’ve got to make a small model of that big catapult, Smithers. Can you do it?”
“Sure,” said Smithers. “The ring’ll be copper tubing, with pin-bearings. Wind a coil on the lathe. It’ll be kinda rough, but it’ll do. But gears, now….”
“I’ll attend to them. You know how to work that metallic ammonium?”