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.
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