But suddenly, in the privacy of his laboratory, a single fact arises from the test-tube in his trembling hand and confronts him! His brain reels; the glass torment falls upon the floor, and shatters into countless pieces, but he is not conscious of it, for he feels it thrust through his heart.When he recovers from the first shock, he can only ejaculate: 'Is it possible?' After a little he is able to reason.'I was fatigued,' he says; 'perhaps my senses erred.Ican repeat the experiment again, and be sure.But if it overthrow those conclusions for which I have given my life?' he gasps.'My generalisation is firmly established in the minds of all - all but myself - no one will ever chance upon this particular experiment, and it may not disprove my theory after all; better, much better, that the floor there keep the secret of it all both from me and from others!' But even as he says this to himself he has taken a new tube from the rack and crawled - ten years older for that last ten minutes - to his chemical case.The life-long habit of truth is so strong in him that self-interest cannot submerge it.He repeats the experiment, and confirms his fears.The battle between his life and a few drops of liquid in a test-tube has been mercilessly fought, and he has lost! The elasticity of the man is gone forever, and the only indication the world ever receives of this terrible conflict between a human soul and its destiny is some half a dozen lines in Nature, giving the experiment and stating that it utterly refutes its author's previous conclusions.Half a dozen lines - the epitaph of a dead, though unburied, life!"My companion paused there, but I found myself unable to reply.He had spoken with such intensity, such dramatic fervour, that I was completely swept away by his eloquence; so much so, indeed, that it did not even occur to me to ask myself why he should have burst out in this peculiar strain.I have given you the incident in order that you may see the strange moods into which Maitland occasionally relapsed - at least, at that time.After a quick glance at me he continued, in a quieter vein: "All of us men of science have felt something, however little, of this, and I believe, as a class, scientists transcend all other men in their respect for absolute truth." He cast another one of his searching glances at me, and said quickly: "This is precisely why I am going to confide in you and rely upon your assistance in a matter, the successful termination of which would please me as much as the discovery of an absolute standard of measurement."He then made the confession which I have already given you, and ended by asking me to secure him an introduction to Miss Darrow.
I cheerfully promised to bring this about at the first opportunity.
He asked me if I thought, on account of his having met her so frequently, she would be likely to think it was all a "put up job.""I do not know," I replied."Miss Darrow is a singularly close observer.On the whole I think you had better reach her through her father.Do you play croquet?" He replied that he was considered something of an expert in that line.That, then, was surely the best way.John Darrow was known in the neighbourhood as a "crank" on the subject of croquet.He had spent many hundreds of dollars on his grounds.His wickets were fastened to hard pine planks, and these were then carefully buried two feet deep.The surface of the ground, he was wont to descant, must be of a particular sort of gravel, sifted just so, and rolled to a nicety.The balls must be of hard rubber, and have just one-eighth inch clearance in passing through the wickets, with the exception of the two wires forming the "cage,"where it was imperative that this clearance should be reduced to one-sixteenth of an inch - but I need not state more to show how he came to be considered a "crank" upon the subject.
It was easy enough to bring Maitland and Darrow together."My friend is himself much interested in the game; he heard of your superb ground; may he be permitted to examine it closely?" Darrow was all attention.He would be delighted to show it.Suppose they make a practical test of it by playing a game.This they did and Maitland played superbly, but he was hardly a match for the old gentleman, who sought to palliate his defeat by saying: "You play an excellent game, sir; but I am a trifle too much for you on my own ground.Now, if you can spare the time, I should like to witness a game between you and my daughter; I think you will be pretty evenly matched."If he could spare the time! I laughed outright at the idea.Why, with the prospect of meeting Gwen Darrow before him, an absolute unit of measure, with a snail's pace, would have made good its escape from him.As it is a trick of poor humanity to refuse when offered the very thing one has been madly scheming to obtain, Ihastened to accept Darrow's invitation for my friend, and to assure him on my own responsibility, that time was just then hanging heavily on Maitland's hands.Well, the game was played, but Maitland was so unnerved by the girl's presence that he played execrably, so poorly, indeed, that the always polite Darrow remarked: "You must charge your easy victory, Gwen, to your opponent's gallantry, not to his lack of skill, for I assure you he gave me a much harder rub." The young lady cast a quick glance at Maitland, which said so plainly that she preferred a fair field and no favour that he hastened to say: "Your father puts too high an estimate upon my play.I did my best to win, but - but I was a little nervous; I see, however, that you would have defeated me though I had been in my best form." Gwen gave him one of those short, searching looks, so peculiarly her own, which seem to read, with mathematical certainty, one's innermost thoughts, - and the poor fellow blushed to the tips of his ears.
