Going across the room, he threw open the window to its full extent; then coming back again, he opened the window before which stood the chair containing the box. Turning to his friends, he answered their mute inquiries by stating that he took these precautions lest the remaining ozone in the case should, in escaping, overpower them. The air passing through the room from the back window would quickly carry out the evaporating ozone.
“I will break the glass top of the case,” he said, “and quickly seize the cat, withdraw it, and throw the box out of the window.”
Cobb now adjusted the cloth about his mouth, while the others came closer to him that they might not miss any part of the proceedings. Taking a small hammer from a shelf near by, he struck the glass a smart blow, shattering it into many pieces; quickly seizing the cat, he drew it out of the case and threw the latter out of the window. Next, tearing off the bandages about its loins and head, he clapped the two copper discs against the body of the animal – one upon its back and one upon its breast, just over the heart; then dropping the zincs into the fluid of the battery, completed the circuit by touching a push-button.
The effect was startling: the poor animal gave a gasp, a shiver ran through its frame, its chest heaved a moment, and it breathed.
Quickly taking it to the fire, he rubbed it briskly with a towel for a couple of minutes, and then laid it down upon the warm rug near the grate, that its body might receive the heat from the fire.
The animal lay but a moment where he had placed it; it soon arose on its legs, walked around once or twice, and then quietly lay down in a new position.
Taking the bandages from his face, Cobb told the others to do likewise. The air in the room was only slightly impregnated with the odor of ozone.
The windows being closed, a saucer of milk was placed before the cat, and the animal instantly arose and lapped its contents.
It seemed to all present as if the animal had just arisen from a sound sleep. There was no indication in its manner that it had undergone any new or unusual treatment.
It was strange! It was more than strange – it was marvelous!
No longer was there any doubt in the mind of either Craft or Hathaway. The theory had been plainly and truly demonstrated. Cobb had become possessed of a power unknown to any other living man. What would he do with this power? was the question that immediately came to the mind of each. Would he use it for good, or for evil? Was it a play-thing that he had discovered? or had he worked out this problem for some great and grand undertaking?
“What next?” inquired Hathaway. “What is the next act in this drama?”
“To bed,” said Cobb, glancing up at the clock. “It is now ten minutes past one. To-morrow evening meet me here. Say nothing, not even a word, about what you both have witnessed and heard to-night. Have I your word?” he asked, inquiringly.
“Yes, certainly,” they replied together; “if you wish us not to speak of it.”
“I do indeed wish it, and trust that nothing will cause you to divulge a single part of this evening’s occurrences. Good-night!”
Shaking their hands at the door, he again said good-night as they descended the stairway.
Returning, he filled the grate with more coal, and threw himself down, without undressing, upon the cot in the corner of the room. A moment later, the deep sound of his breathing and the low purring of the cat on the rug were the only sounds heard in the room.
CHAPTER II
The next evening, Junius Cobb again welcomed the arrival of his friends to his apartments.
The November rains had set in in reality, and like the preceding evening, the post wore an aspect of moistened gloom.
Cobb’s friends had come earlier than usual, for the events of the previous evening were so vividly before their minds that it was impossible to await the arrival of the conventional hour for calling upon their friend.
They rattled up the stairs, knocked respectfully at his door, and entered without waiting for his well-known voice.
He was sitting in his easy-chair, but arose at the first sound of their approach, and as they entered, cordially grasped the hand of each.
“Boys, I am glad you came earlier than is your custom,” he said, motioning them to chairs.
“We could not wait for nine o’clock,” replied Hathaway, breathless from running up the stairs.
“No; we couldn’t wait,” chimed in Craft. “I do believe I dreamed of nothing but ozone, dead cats, chemistry, and the like, all night. I am, in fact, weary for want of sleep.”
Cobb did the honors of his house, and soon all three were quietly sitting, and sending clouds of smoke airily toward the ceiling.
“Any news at the club?” inquired Cobb of Craft.
“Nothing out of the usual run. Dilly, the young one from the Point, and the others are working hard at a game of cinch.”
“A good night for a quiet game, or for a quiet chat, too,” said Hathaway.
“Yes,” said Cobb; “but would you rather play cinch to remaining here and listening to what I have to say?”
“Oh, no, my dear boy; excuse us. I left them all in their glory, and hunted up Craft, that we might the sooner get here, for I have no doubt that you have some remarkable disclosures to make to-night.”
“You are right; I have – and some that will probably strike you as being the most fanciful and, perhaps, untenable, you have ever heard,” returned the other, looking his two listeners in the eye.
“Let that be seen in the future,” they both exclaimed.
“What is your pay?” abruptly asked Cobb, after a moment’s silence.
“You ought to know – $1,500 a year.”
“And yours the same?” to Craft, “both being dismounted officers.”
“Certainly; and a mighty small sum for a man to put on style, go to parties, and send bouquets and the like, I assure you,” returned that personage.
“And mine is but a trifle more. We are all poor, impecunious gentlemen, are we not?”
“Yes, decidedly so, I fear; for I am not aware that either of us has anything outside of his pay,” answered Craft.
“And what are our chances for promotion? The way things go now, I will have to serve fifty years to become a colonel. Of course, I cannot serve that long, as I would be over the maximum age,” gloomily broke in Hathaway.
“It is even so, gentlemen,” and Cobb knocked the ashes from his cigar. “Promotion in the army is so exceedingly slow that none of us can expect to reach a colonelcy; in fact, the most that is before us is a majority. Here we are, gentlemen of thirty and thirty-five years of age, giving our lives and brains to this government for a paltry $2,000 a year. I, for one, intend to remedy this sad state of affairs,” and he arose and walked across the room in an impatient manner.
The others watched him curiously. His manner of action spoke volumes, and indicated plainly that there was something he had to tell them in conjunction with his remarks.
Cobb strode nervously across the room for a minute, then suddenly approaching the table, he filled to the brim a glass with whisky from one of the decanters. Raising it to his lips to drink its contents, he suddenly paused, and begging the pardon of his guests, invited them to join him. His thoughts were not upon his actions.
“Listen,” he exclaimed, as their glasses were laid upon the table; “are you ready to give me your strictest attention?”
“We are all ears, and will gladly listen to all you have to say,” answered Craft, while Hathaway’s eyes and manner betokened the curiosity he could not conceal.
“Are