Neutronium is solid protons, and weighs about one ton to the cubic inch.”

“But that stuff is simply hypothetical,” objected Bohn.

“Not quite hypothetical, Mr. Bohn. It occurs in the dwarf stars, for instance, and in other places.”

“Where, for example?”

“In this room, Mr. Bohn. I have caused an infinitesimal layer of it to be created on the reflecting side of this wooden bowl, a deposit inconceivably thin—perhaps only two or three protons deep. Nevertheless, it is sufficient. Doubtless you noticed the weight.”

“Yes.” He stared at the black concavity on the table. “By what means do you perform this?”

“By means I shall not reveal, because it is dangerous.”

“Dangerous! You needn’t be solicitous of our safety!”

“I am not, but of my own. The process is economically dangerous.”

“Bah! That’s what people thought about every practical advance, from steam engines, on”

“Yes,” said Edmond, “and I know of none that has not been perverted to destruction.” For the first time in the interview he smiled, and the men flushed angrily. “Would you place hand grenades in the paws of all the apes in the zoo, Mr. Bohn? Neither shall I.” He crushed out his cigarette in an ash tray with an air of closing the subject, and turned to Hoffman.

“You wished to ask a question, Mr. Hoffman.”

The other leaned forward, peering at Edmond through his eye-glasses.

“Will this process disintegrate other elements besides lead, Mr. Hall?”

“A few, but the process is infinitely slower.”

“Why is that?”

“There are several reasons. Primarily, because lead is itself more or less unstable in structure. Then, neutronium in this very thin deposit reflects the particular ray that affects lead in greater degree; in other words, my reflector has a sort of cosmic color. Again, the lead radiations form the greater portion of the cosmic rays themselves, for a reason I have not bothered to ascertain; they too are leaden-hued. That is of course why leaden roofs and gutters are activated after long exposure to weather, while zinc or iron or copper ones are not.”

“I see,” said Hoffman slowly. “Say, how long have you been working on this, Mr. Hall?”

“About six weeks,” said Edmond coldly, ignoring the look of amazement on the faces of his guests. He continued: “I think we have covered sufficient ground here. You may send for these four reflectors; they will treat enough lead for your present capacity. Should increased production necessitate any addition, I will supply them. You may install these in any part of your plant; the cosmic rays are but slightly diffused by passing through the building. The technique of the actual handling of the filament I will leave to you, but be sure to safeguard your workers with lead-foil lined gloves against radium bums.”

He rose, and the others followed.

“I’ll take this one with me, if you don’t mind,” said Bohn, lifting the wooden bowl from the table with some effort. The three passed into the hall. “Homo!” called Edmond sharply, and from somewhere in the darkness of the hall the monkey scampered, leaping to his shoulder, and crouching there. As they were descending the stairs, Hoffman noticed their host glance backward at the lighted rectangle of laboratory door; instantly the lights went out. The engineer made no comment, but drew a deep breath when the front door had closed upon them. He followed Bohn, who staggered ahead under the weight he bore, and helped him slide the bowl to the floor of their car.

“What d’you think of it, Carl?” said Hoffman, as the car moved.

“Don’t know.”

“D’you believe that stuff about cosmic rays and neutronium?”

“We’ll damn soon find out when I get to the lab. I got some lead there that I know isn’t doctored.”

They were silent for several blocks.

“Say, Carl, did you see him put out the lights?”

“Trick.