"It is not shagreen at all!" the chemist cried. "We will treat this
unknown mystery as a mineral, and try its mettle by dropping it in a
crucible where I have at this moment some red potash."
Japhet went out, and returned almost immediately.
"Allow me to cut away a bit of this strange substance, sir," he said
to Raphael; "it is so extraordinary----"
"A bit!" exclaimed Raphael; "not so much as a hair's-breadth. You may
try, though," he added, half banteringly, half sadly.
The chemist broke a razor in his desire to cut the skin; he tried to
break it by a powerful electric shock; next he submitted it to the
influence of a galvanic battery; but all the thunderbolts his science
wotted of fell harmless on the dreadful talisman.
It was seven o'clock in the evening. Planchette, Japhet, and Raphael,
unaware of the flight of time, were awaiting the outcome of a final
experiment. The Magic Skin emerged triumphant from a formidable
encounter in which it had been engaged with a considerable quantity of
chloride of nitrogen.
"It is all over with me," Raphael wailed. "It is the finger of God! I
shall die!----" and he left the two amazed scientific men.
"We must be very careful not to talk about this affair at the
Academie; our colleagues there would laugh at us," Planchette remarked
to the chemist, after a long pause, in which they looked at each other
without daring to communicate their thoughts.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348