Hathaway emptied the glass, and then, looking at Craft, said:
“I know now; it was the bottle, or rather the contents, that has caused us both to fall asleep.”
“Yes,” said Cobb, “it was the contents of that bottle that has caused you both to enter the first stages of death.”
“How long has this sleep continued?” asked Craft.
“About ten minutes.”
“And was I also asleep as long?” asked Hathaway.
“Yes; a little longer,” returned Cobb. “Craft awoke first.”
Pausing to light a cigar, he then resumed:
“How do you feel—sick or languid?”
“Oh, as for me, not at all,” spoke up Craft. “I cannot say that I feel any ill effect from the drug.”
“Nor I,” said Hathaway, “except that I am a little dry,” with a laugh.
“Then take some of this wine,” and Cobb filled a glass for each of them. “It will brace up your nerves.”
They drank the wine, and appeared to suffer no evil effects from their enforced sleep.
“Will you not smoke, also?” asked Cobb, as he passed over a box of fine Havana cigars. Each took one, and Cobb laid the box aside.
Soon the clouds of smoke rising to the ceiling renewed the scene of warmth and sociability which had prevailed before the uncorking of the bottle of ozone.
“You, gentlemen,” said Cobb, drawing his chair to the fire, and taking a seat near the others, “have seen pure ozone in its solid state, and you both have felt its effect. It is the life-giving principle of oxygen. Ozone is everywhere; in the air, of course; in all creation, in fact. I do not wish to tire you, but if you desire, I will explain why I said that I had the power to hold life in the human body for an indefinite time.”
“You will not tire us. Pray go on; I, for one, am most anxious to know more of this wonderful discovery of yours,” quickly returned Craft.
“I also can listen for hours to your words,” answered Hathaway.
“Then, I will explain to you my researches in this direction;” and Cobb arose and entered his little back room, soon returning with a good-sized box, which he laid upon the table.
Craft and Hathaway watched him with an earnestness which gave evidence of the interest they took in the strange theories which he had advanced. Indeed, it was a most strange, not to say terrible, power for a man to possess—that of holding the soul of man within its fleshly portals during his pleasure.
After Cobb had placed the box upon the table, he opened the roll of papers which he had before him at the time he got the bottle of ozone. Referring to one of the pages, he looked toward Hathaway and said:
“Can you tell me how many cubic feet of air the average man requires in every twenty-four hours?”
Hathaway, taken by surprise, hesitated, blushed, and admitted that he had forgotten the exact amount.
“Well,” continued the other, quickly, “it is not to be supposed that you should remember the answer to such a question, so I will tell you. A healthy man, in action, consumes about 686,000 cubic inches in every twenty-four hours. Now, what I wish to have you understand by that, is this: that the average man requires about 137,200 cubic inches of oxygen in every twenty-four hours. This is the accepted way of putting it; in reality, he needs the ozone contained in that amount of oxygen. I do not desire that you should receive the impression that the oxygen is not needed for the man, but that the ozone only is required for the continuance of life where there is no action. I may surprise you when I say that each of you draws into your lungs, every day, over seven pounds of oxygen gas, but such is the case. Now, in those seven pounds of oxygen there are just two grains of pure ozone. Do not interrupt me,” as Craft attempted to speak; “I know what you would say—that that is contrary to the accepted opinion on the subject, and that the amount is much greater—but let me tell you that my researches have found it entirely different: two grains only, to seven pounds of oxygen, or thirty-five pounds of common air. You will perceive by the above that each of you requires nearly two grains of ozone per day, or about 700 grains per year. Now, if by any freak of nature you could remain in a perfectly passive state, doing nothing, exercising no action at all, this amount of 700 grains would fall to about 400 grains; that is, the blood would require that amount to continue to perform its vital functions. Thus you see that you would require for the maintenance of life for a hundred years, 40,000 grains. This is equivalent to nearly seven pounds of ozone. Ozone, as you have already ascertained, cannot be taken into the system through the nostrils without serious consequences. It is too powerful, and would soon cause paralysis and death; but it can be taken into the system through the pores of the body without danger to life. Again, ozone can be kept in the solid state under the pressure of two atmospheres; reduce this pressure, and it will begin to evaporate. Crystals of stronetic acid, you both know, quickly decompose carbonic acid gas. Now, the whole secret is this: If insensibility is first produced by any of the various means at our command, and the subject is then placed in a receptacle sufficiently strong to withstand a pressure of over two atmospheres, and surrounded by crystals of ozone and stronetic acid in certain proportions, insensibility will continue, and the subject will in no way change, save a slight decrease in weight. Life is there, and will continue there until the ozone is entirely exhausted. To compensate for the loss in weight, the subject is bound about the abdomen with cloths saturated in certain oils and preparations which I have ascertained will furnish all the nourishment required for a given period.”
Craft and Hathaway could not help looking at this man in amazement.
Was this the man with whom they had played billiards, with whom they had drank and associated, never dreaming that he was engaged in any such investigations? Was he, indeed, crazy? and were they the listeners to a lunatic’s chattering discourse?
Such were the thoughts that passed through the minds of both.
Cobb stood watching the effect of his words upon them. He noted every change in their countenances; he read every thought as it came to their minds. He spoke not a word, waiting for them to give utterance to the skeptical ideas which he knew they entertained.
“It is too strange! It is too contrary to natural law and science! It is impossible!” and Craft arose as if to go.
“Yes, Cobb,” said Hathaway, “this is too much; it is a fancy you have gotten, but a fancy which can never be realized. You have allowed your theories to become shadows, your shadows to become tangible, but the tangibility is apparent to no one but yourself.” He too arose from his chair.
A smile played upon the lips of Cobb, a smile of perfect self-satisfaction. His eyes shone as if his very soul centered in them.
“Look!” he cried; “look! and behold for yourselves whether my words are worthy of consideration!”
Saying this, he raised the lid of the box on the table; then, stepping back and pointing his finger at it, exclaimed, in a tone of command, a tone of majestic confidence in his own power:
“Look! Behold life in death; death in life!”
Craft took a step forward, and glanced into the box. A puzzled and ludicrous expression came over his face, his lips parted, then, finally, his white teeth showed themselves as he gave vent to a loud and prolonged laugh.
Hathaway had by this time advanced and obtained a view of the contents of the box.
“A cat, by all that’s holy!” he exclaimed; “a poor dead cat!” and he too joined in the merriment of his friend.
Cobb stood still, not in the least endeavoring to check their hilarity, but waiting for them to get through.
Again the others looked at the cat in the box, and again they laughed