“Might I ask,” interrupted Kennedy, “what that curious greenish or bluish light from the tube is composed of?”

Prescott eyed him keenly for an instant through his thick glasses.  Craig had shifted his gaze from the bit of mineral in his own hand, but was not looking at the light.  He seemed to be indifferently contemplating Prescott’s hand as it rested on the switch.

“That, sir,” replied Prescott slowly, “is an emanation due to this new force, protodyne, which I use.  It is a manifestation of energy, sir, that may run changes not only through the whole gamut of the elements, but is capable of transforming the ether itself into matter, matter into life, and life into mind.  It is the outward sign of the unity of nature, the—­”

“The means by which you secure the curious telepagrams I have heard of?” inquired Kennedy eagerly.

Prescott looked at him sharply, and for a moment I thought his face seemed to change from a livid white to an apoplectic red, although it may have been only the play of the weird light.  When he spoke it was with no show of even suppressed surprise.

“Yes,” he answered calmly.  “I see that you have heard something of them.  I had a curious case a few days ago.  I had hoped to interest a certain capitalist of high standing in this city.  I had showed him just what I have showed you, and I think he was impressed by it.  Then I thought to clinch the matter by a telepagram, but for some reason or other I failed to consult the forces I control as to the wisdom of doing so.  Had I, I should have known better.  But I went ahead in self-confidence and enthusiasm.  I told him of a long banished daughter with whom, in his heart, he was really wishing to become reconciled but was too proud to say the word.  He resented it.  He started to stamp out of this room, but not before I had another telepagram which told of a misfortune that was soon to overtake the old man himself.  If he had given me a chance I might have saved him, at least have flashed a telepagram to that daughter myself, but he gave me no chance.  He was gone.

“I do not know precisely what happened after that, but in some way this man found his daughter, and to-day she is living with him.  As for my hopes of getting assistance from him, I lost them from the moment when I made my initial mistake of telling him something distasteful.  The daughter hates me and I hate her.  I have learned that she never ceases advising the old man against all schemes for investment except those bearing moderate interest and readily realized on.  Dr. Burnham—­I see you know him—­has been superseded by another doctor, I believe.  Well, well, I am through with that incident.  I must get assistance from other sources.  The old man, I think, would have tricked me out of the fruits of my discovery anyhow.  Perhaps I am fortunate.  Who knows?”

A knock at the door cut him short.  Prescott opened it, and a messenger boy stood there.  “Is Professor Kennedy here?” he inquired.