It was puzzling.  I would have given a good deal just then for a few words with Dr. Holcomb.  The man, Kennedy, had kept it in his pocket.  How had he held it a prisoner?  The professor had use for it in some scientific work!  No wonder!  Certainly it was not a jewel.  What could it be?  It was solid.  It was lighter than air.  Could it be a substance?  If not; what is it?

“What would you advise?”

In answer the jeweller reached for the telephone.  He gave a number.

“Hello.  Say, is Ed there?  This is Phil.  Tell him to step to the phone.  Hello!  Say, Ed, I want you to come over on the jump.  Something to show you.  Too busy!  No, you’re not.  Not for this.  I’m going to teach you some chemistry.  No; this is serious.  What is it?  I don’t know.  What’s lighter than air?  Lots of things?  Oh, I know.  But what solid?  That’s why I’m asking.  Come over.  All right.  At once.”

He hung up the receiver.

“My brother,” he spoke.  “It has passed beyond my province and into his.  He is a chemist.  As an expert he may give you a real opinion.”

Surely we needed one.  It was against reason.  It had taken me completely off my balance.  I took a chair and joined the others in the contemplation of the blue dot on the ceiling.  We could speculate and conjecture; but there was not one of us deep enough even to start a theory.  Plainly it was what should not be.  We had been taught physics and science; we had been drilled to fundamentals.  If this thing could be, then the foundations upon which we stood were shattered.  But one little law!  Back in my mind was buzzing the enigma of the Blind Spot.  They were woven together.  Some law that had eluded the ken of mankind.

The chemist was a tall man with a hook nose and black eyes that clinched like rivets.  He was a bit impatient.  He looked keenly at his brother.

“Well, Phil, what is it?” He pulled out a watch, “I haven’t much time.”

There was a contrast between them.  The jeweller was fat and complacent.  He merely sat in his chair, his hand on his waistband and a stubby finger elevated toward the jewel.  He seemed to enjoy it.

“You’re a chemist, Ed. Here’s a test for your wisdom.  Can you explain that?  No, over here.  Above your head.  That jewel?”

The other looked up.

“What’s the idea?  New notion for decoration?  Or"?—­a bit testily—­ “is this a joke?” He was a serious man; his black eyes and the nose spoke his character.

The jeweller laughed gently.

“Listen, Ed—­” Then he went into explanation; when he was through the chemist was twitching with excitement.

“Get me a ladder.  Here, let me get on the table; perhaps I can reach it.  Sounds impossible, but if it’s so, it’s so; it must have an explanation.”

Without ado and in spite of the protests of his brother he stepped upon the polished surface of the table.  He was a tall man; he could just barely reach it with the tip of his finger.  He could move it; but each time it clung as to a magnet.  After a minute of effort he gave it up.  When he looked down he was a different man; his black eyes glowed with wonder.