These globes resembled glass, and were, to all appearances, extremely fragile. Remo dashed it upon the hard floor, as though he would destroy it. It rebounded, and he caught it as an urchin would catch a rebounding ball.
"I did this," he said, "to show you that these appliances are not amenable to accident. This is the accumulator or receiver of the current."
He touched the lever and opened a small aperture directly over the cluster of wires in the upper globe.
"Hold your hand below the lower portion," he said.
I complied, and instantly my hand was moved away with such resistless force that I was turned completely around and sent across the room. Remo smiled at my undisguised consternation, and said:
"You will not be harmed. What you experienced was the flow of the electric current, but it has not harmed you. It is physically harmless. You would call this a twenty-horse-power motor in your country, although it looks like a toy. Take it and handle it as I direct. You may handle it with perfect safety. Place it horizontally near that fly-wheel and push the lever."
He pointed to a fly-wheel scarcely a foot in diameter, with seven radiating flanges set slightly at an angle. I did, and opened the aperture. In less time than it takes to tell it the wheel was revolving at a rate of speed so high that it seemed like a solid motionless and polished mirror.
"Close the aperture, go to the side in which direction it is revolving, and again open it to the current."
I did so, and instantly the wheel was motionless.
He pointed to a huge block of granite, which rested on a metal framework a dozen inches above the floor, and said: "Banish all nervousness, invert the accumulator, and hold it under the center of the block, which weighs five of your tons."