CHAPTER V.
In the country, social intercourse between Hawkins' family and my own isupon the most informal basis. If it pleases us to dine together coatlessand cuffless, we do so; and no one suggests that a national upheaval islikely to result.
But in town it is different. The bugaboo of strict propriety seems totake mysterious ascendancy. We still dine together, but it is done inthe most proper evening dress. It seems to be the law--unwritten butunalterable--that Hawkins and I shall display upon our respective bosomssomething like a square foot of starchy white linen.
I hardly know why I mention this matter of evening clothes, unless itis that the memory of my brand-new dress suit, which passed to anothersphere that night, still preys upon my mind.
That night, above mentioned, my wife and I dined in the Hawkins' home.
Hawkins seemed particularly jovial. He appeared to be chuckling withtriumph, or some kindred emotion, and his air was even more expansivethan usual.
When I mentioned the terrible explosion of the powder worksat Pompton--hardly a subject to excite mirth in the normalindividual--Hawkins fairly guffawed.
"But, Herbert," cried his wife, somewhat horrified, "is there anythinghumorous in the dismemberment of three poor workmen?"
"Oh, it isn't that--it isn't that, my dear," smiled the inventor. "Itmerely struck me as funny--this old notion of explosives."
"What old notion?" I inquired.
"Why, the fallacy of the present methods of manipulatingnitro-glycerine."
"I presume you have a better scheme?" I advanced.
"Mr. Griggs," cried Hawkins' wife, in terror that was not all feigned,"don't suggest it!"
"Now, my dear----" began Hawkins, stiffening at once.
"Hush, Herbert, hush! You've made mischief enough with your inventions,but you have never, thank goodness, dabbled in explosives."
"If I wanted to tell you what I know about explosives, and what I coulddo----" declaimed Hawkins.
"Don't tell us, Mr. Hawkins," laughed my wife. "A sort of superstitiousdread comes over me at the notion."
"Mrs. Griggs!" exclaimed Hawkins, eying my wife with a glare whichin any other man would have earned him the best licking I could givehim--but which, like many other things, had to be excused in Hawkins.
"Herbert!" said his wife, authoritatively. "Be still. Actually, you'requite excited!"
Hawkins lapsed into sulky silence, and the meal ended with just a hintof constraint.
Mrs. Hawkins and my wife adjourned to the drawing-room, and Hawkins andI were left, theoretically, to smoke a post-prandial cigar. Hawkins,however, had other plans for my entertainment.
"Are they up-stairs?" he muttered, as footsteps sounded above us.
"They seem to be."
"Then you come with me," whispered Hawkins, heading me toward theservants' staircase.
"Where?" I inquired suspiciously.
There was a peculiar glitter in his eye.
"Come along and you'll see," chuckled Hawkins, beginning the ascent."Oh, I'll tell you what," he continued, pausing on the second landing,"these women make me tired!"
"Indeed?"
"Yes, they do. You needn't look huffy, Griggs. It isn't your wife or mywife. It's the whole sex. They chatter and prattle and make silly jokesabout things they're absolutely incapable of understanding."
"My dear Hawkins," I said soothingly, "you wrong the fair sex."
"Oh, I wrong 'em, eh? Well, what woman knows the first thing aboutexplosives?" demanded Hawkins heatedly. "Dynamite or rhexite or meganiteor carbonite or stonite or vigorite or cordite or ballistite or thoriteor maxamite----"
"Stop, Hawkins, stop!" I cried.
"Well, that's all, anyway," said the inventor. "But what woman knowsenough about them to argue the thing intelligently? And yet my wifetells me--I, who have spent nearly half a lifetime in scientificlabor--she actually tells me to--to shut up, when I hint at having someslight knowledge of the subject!"
"I know, Hawkins, but your scientific labors have made her--andme--suffer in the past."
"Oh, they have, have they?" grunted Hawkins, climbing toward the topfloor. "Well, come up, Griggs."
I knew the door at which he stopped. It was that of Hawkins' workshopor laboratory. It was on the floor with the servants, who, poor things,probably did not know or dared not object to the risk they ran.
"What's the peculiar humming?" I asked, pausing on the threshold.
"Only my electric motor," sneered Hawkins. "It won't bite you, Griggs.Come in."
"And what is this big, brass bolt on the door?" I continued.
"That? Oh, that's an idea!" cried the inventor. "That's my newspringlock. Just look at that lock, Griggs. It simply can't be openedfrom the outside, and only from the inside by one who knows how to workit. And I'm the only one who knows. When I patent this thing----"
"Well, I wouldn't close the door, Hawkins," I murmured. "You might faintor something, and I'd be shut in here till somebody remembered to huntfor me."
"Bah!" exclaimed Hawkins, slamming the door, violently. "Really, fora grown man, you're the most chicken-hearted individual I ever met.But--what's the use of talking about it? To get back to explosives----"
"Oh, never mind the explosives," I said wearily. "You're right, and thatsettles it."
"See here," said Hawkins sharply; "I had no intention of mentioningexplosives to-night, for a particular reason. In a day or two, you'llhear the country ringing with my name, in connection with explosives.But since the subject has come up, if you want to listen to me for a fewminutes, I'll interest you mightily."
Kind Heaven! Could I have realized then the bitter truth of those lastwords!
"Yes, sir," the inventor went on, "as I was saying--or was I sayingit?--they all have their faults--dynamite, rhexite, meganite, carbonite,ston----"
"You went over that list before."
"Well, they all have their faults. Either they explode when you don'twant them to, or they don't explode when you do want them to, or they'reliable to explode spontaneously, or something else. It's all due, asI have invariably contended, to impure nitro-glycerine or unscientifichandling of the pure article."
"Yes."
"Yes, indeed. Now, what would you say to an explosive----"
"Absolutely nothing," I replied decidedly. "I should pass it withouteven a nod."
"Never mind your nonsense, Griggs. What would you--er--what would youthink of an explosive that could be dropped from the roof of a housewithout detonating?"
"Remarkable!"
"An explosive," continued Hawkins impressively, "into which a man mightthrow a lighted lamp without the slightest fear! How would that strikeyou?"
"Well, Hawkins," I said, "I think I should have grave doubts of theman's mental condition."
"Oh, just cut out that foolish talk," snapped the inventor. "I'm quiteserious. Suppose I should tell you that I had thought and thought overthis problem, and finally hit upon an idea for just such a powder? Wherewould dynamite and rhexite and meganite and all the rest of them be,beside----"
He paused theatrically.
"Hawkinsite!"
"Don't know, Hawkins," I said, unable to absorb any of his enthusiasm."But let us thank goodness that it is only an idea as yet."
"Oh, but it isn't!" cried the inventor.
"Hawkins!" I gasped, springing to my feet. "What do you mean?"
"I mean just this: Do you see that little vat in the corner?"
I stared fearfully in the direction indicated. A little vat, indeed, Isaw. It stood there, half-filled with a sticky mess, through which anagitator, run by the electric motor, was revolving slowly.
"That's Hawkinsite, in the process of manufacture!" the inventorannounced.
A sickly terror crept over me. I made instinctively for the door.
"Oh, come back," said Hawkins. "You can't get out, anyway, until I undothe lock. But there's no danger whatever, my dear boy. Just sit down andI'll explain why."
I had no choic
e about sitting down; a most peculiar weakness of theknees made standing for the moment impossible. I drew my chair to thediagonally opposite corner of the apartment, and sat there with my eyesglued upon the vat.
"Now, when all these fellows go about nitrating their glycerine," saidHawkins serenely, "they simply overlook the scientific principle which Ihave discovered. For instance, out there at Pompton the vat exploded inthe very act of mixing in the glycerine. That's just what is being doneover in that corner at this minute----"
"Ouch!" I cried involuntarily.
"But it won't happen here--it can't happen here," said the inventorimpatiently. "I am using an entirely different combination of chemicals.Now, if there was any trouble of that sort coming, Griggs, the contentsof that vat would have begun to turn green before now. But as yousee----"
"Haw--Hawkins!" I croaked hoarsely, pointing a shaking finger at themachine.
"Well, what is it now?"
"Look!" I managed to articulate.
"Oh, Lord!" sniffed the inventor. "I suppose as soon as I said that, youbegan to see green shades appear, eh? Why--dear me!"
Hawkins stepped rapidly over to the side of his mixer. Then he steppedaway with considerably greater alacrity.
There was no two ways about it; the devilish mess in the vat was takingon a marked tinge of green!
"Well--I--I guess I'll shut off the power," muttered Hawkins, suitingthe action to the word.
"When the agitator has stopped, Griggs, the mass will cool at once, soyou needn't worry."
"If it didn't cool, would it--would it blow up?" I quavered.
"Oh, it would," admitted Hawkins, rather nervously. "But as soon as themixing ceases, the slight color disappears, as you see."
"I don't see it; it seems to me to be getting greener than ever."
"Well, it's not!" the inventor snapped. "Five minutes from now, thatstuff will be an even brown once more."
"And while it's regaining the even brown, why not clear out of here?" Isaid eagerly.
"Yes, we may as well, I suppose," said Hawkins, with a readiness whichrefused to be masked under his assumption of reluctance. "Come on,Griggs."
Hawkins turned the lever on his fancy lock, remarking again:
"Come on."
"Well, open the door."
"It's op--why, what's wrong here?" muttered the inventor, twisting thelever back and forth several times.
"Oh, good heavens, Hawkins!" I groaned. "Has your lock gone back on you,too?"
"No, it has not. Of course not," growled the inventor, tugging at hislever with almost frantic energy. "It's stuck--a little new--that's all.Er--do you see a screw-driver on that table, Griggs?"
I handed him the tool as quickly as possible, noting at the same timethat despite the cessation of the stirring "Hawkinsite" was gettinggreener every second.
"I'll just take it off," panted Hawkins, digging at one of the screws."No time to tinker with it now."
"Why not? There's no danger."
"Certainly there isn't. But you--you seem to be a little nervous aboutit, Griggs, and----"
"Hawkins," I cried, "what are those bubbles of red gas?"
"What bubbles?" Hawkins turned as if he had been shot. "Great Scott,Griggs! There were no bubbles of red gas rising out of that stuff, werethere?"
"There they go again," I said, pointing to the vat, from which a newebullition of scarlet vapor had just risen. "What does it mean?"
"Mean?" shrieked Hawkins, turning white and trembling in every limb.
"Yes, mean!" I repeated, shaking him. "Does it mean that----"
"It means that the cursed stuff has over-heated itself, after all.Lord! Lord! However did it happen? Something must have been impure.Something----"
"Never mind something. What will it do?"
"It--it--oh, my God, Griggs! It'll blow this house into ten thousandpieces within two minutes! Why--why, there's power enough in that littlevat to demolish the Brooklyn Bridge, according to my calculations.There's enough explosive force in that much Hawkinsite to wreck everyoffice building down-town!"
"And we're shut in here with it!"
"Yes! Yes! But let us----"
"Here! Suppose I turn the water into the thing?"
"Don't!" shouted the inventor wildly, battering at the door with hisfists. "It would send us into kingdom come the second it touched! Don'tstand there gaping, Griggs! Help me smash down this door! We must getout, man! We must get the women out! We must warn the neighborhood!Smash her, Griggs! Smash her! Smash the door!"
"Hawkins," I said, resignedly, as a vicious "sizzzz" announced theevolution of a great puff of red gas, "we can never do it in twominutes. Better not attract the rest of the household by your racket.They may possibly escape. Stop!"
"And stay here and be blown to blazes?" cried Hawkins. "No, sir! Downshe goes!"
He seized a stool and dealt a crashing blow upon the panel. Itsplintered. He raised the stool again, and I could hear footstepshurrying from below. I opened my mouth to shout a warning, and----
Well, I don't know that I can describe my sensations with any accuracy,vivid as they were at the time.
Some resistless force lifted me from the floor and propelled me towardthe half shattered door. Dimly I noted that the same thing had happenedto Hawkins. For the tiniest fraction of a second he seemed to befloating horizontally in the air. Then I felt my head collide with wood;the door parted, and I shot through the opening.
I saw the hallway before me; I remember observing with vague wonder thatthe gas-light went out just as it caught my eye. And then an awful flashblinded me, a roar of ten thousand cannon seemed to split my skull--andthat was all.
My eyes opened in the Hawkins' drawing-room--or what remained of it. Ourfamily physician was diligently winding a bandage around my right ankle.An important-looking youth in the uniform of an ambulance surgeon wasstitching up a portion of my left forearm with cheerful nonchalance.
My brand new dress suit, I observed, had lost all semblance to anarticle of clothing; they had covered me, as I lay upon the couch, witha torn portiere.
"_I saw the figure of a policeman standing tiptoe upon asatin chair_."]
The apartment was strangely dark. Here and there stood a lantern, suchas are used by the fire department. In the dim light, I saw the figureof a policeman standing tiptoe upon a satin chair, plugging with soapthe broken gaspipe which had once supported the Hawkins' chandelier.
The ceiling was all down. The walls were bare to the lath in hugepatches. The windows had disappeared, and a chill autumn night windswept through the room.
Bric-a-brac there was none, although here and there, in the mass ofplaster on the floor, gleamed bits of glass and china which might oncehave been parts of ornaments. Hawkinsite had evidently not been quiteas powerful as its inventor had imagined, but it had certainly containedforce enough to blow about ten thousand dollars out of Hawkins' bankaccount.
From the street came the hoarse murmur of a crowd. I twisted my head andmy eyes fell upon two firemen in the hallway. They were dragging down aline of hose from somewhere up-stairs.
Across the room sat my wife and Mrs. Hawkins, disheveled, but alive andapparently unharmed. Hawkins himself leaned wearily back upon a divan, ahuge bandage sewed about his forehead, one arm in a sling, and a policesergeant at his side, notebook in hand.
I felt a fiendish exultation at the sight of that official; for one fondmoment I hoped that Hawkins was under arrest, that he was in for a lifesentence.
"He's conscious, doctor," said the ambulance surgeon.
"Ah, so he is," said my own medical man, as the ladies rushed to myside. "Now, Mr. Griggs, do you feel any pain in the----"
"Oh, Griggs!" cried Hawkins, staggering toward me. "Have you comeback to life? Say, Griggs, just think of it! My workshop's blown tosmithereens! Every single note I ever made has been destroyed! Isn't itaw----"
In joyful chorus, my wife, Mrs. Hawkins and I said:
"Thank Heaven!"
"But thi
nk of it! My notes! The careful record of half a----"
"Herbert!" said his--considerably--better half. "That--will--do!"
"It--oh, well," groaned the inventor disconsolately, limping back to thedivan and the somewhat astonished sergeant of police. Hawkins must havehad some sort of influence with the press. Beyond a bare mention of theexplosion, the matter never found its way into the newspapers.
After I got around again I tried in vain to spread the tale broadcast. Ihad some notion that the notoriety might cure Hawkins.
But, after all, I don't know that it would have done much good. I cannotthink that a man whose inventive genius will survive an explosion ofHawkinsite is likely to be greatly worried by mere newspaper notoriety.