"In the paper I read before the Astronomical Society," pursued the professor, "I made bold to declare that it was possible to insulate a body against the force of gravitation. In other words, to make it so immune from Newtonian law that it would spurn the earth and fall from it at a speed even greater than the drawing power of gravity.
"Can you not comprehend what this means?" cried Quinn, waxing eloquent. "It means a new force in the industrial world—a power that feeds on nothing save a law that transcends that of gravitation. In point of fact, it falls little short of perpetual motion.
"Without the expenditure of even a pound of coal, this new force can turn the wheels of every railroad train on the globe! With its own inherent energy it can give life to the machinery of flour mills, cotton mills, iron foundries; it can——"
Augustus Popham got up hurriedly and put on his hat.
"A rattle-brained idea, sir!" he exclaimed. "I have no mind to remain here and listen to such talk."
Popham's coal mines ravaged the earth's crust in a thousand and one places. The idea that human industry could get along without his coal was too much for him.
Before he could reach the door, Professor Quinn was in front of him, barring his way.
"Remember, Mr. Popham," said the professor, "if I were to take away your mines I should yet give you something in their place worth incalculably more. Hear me out, sir. I beg of you."
"Theories are cheap things," muttered Popham, as he again seated himself. "An ounce of proof is worth a pound of theory."
"Exactly," cried Quinn, "and the ounce of proof shall be forthcoming."