“Grant’s army couldn’t keep him away. He will be here at 10 o’clock.”
“So? What sort of a chap is he?” curiously.
“A well set-up fellow of about twenty-four. About six feet tall; light hair, pleasant features, refined manners. Impetuous sort of fellow.”
That was how Robert Sprague happened to meet Professor Palmer a half hour later.
A pleasant thrill possessed him as he shook hands with the professor. The kindly, though keen, gray eyes met his encouragingly. This was contrary to Robert’s expectations, for he had assumed that he would be fortunate if he succeeded in seeing so busy and prominent a man for a few minutes. He was prepared even for a curt dismissal. What he did not know was that his evident earnestness and enthusiasm had obtained for him an interview through the redoubtable Henry where others would have failed.
Without realizing how he had commenced, he found himself conversing easily with this learned man as if such interviews were everyday occurrences with him.
The professor was impressed with equal favorableness by his caller. The frank, winning countenance and earnest manner created a profound impression upon him in spite of an extraordinary story.
“Let me get this right,” said the professor, finally. “You say that the machine is virtually perfected—that you have succeeded in accomplishing the aim for which your father unsuccessfully spent his life?”
“Not unsuccessfully,” defended Robert, quickly; “without what he had accomplished I could never have constructed a machine of its kind.”
“But it can actually be controlled as you suggest?”