" He turned again to the advertisement where the female in the dove-
coloured corset had seen fit to put on all her pearls before she cleaned
her teeth.
"Not bad, is it?" I said.
"Eh?"
He rolled his eyes heavily full on me, and, as I stared, I beheld all
meaning and consciousness die out of the swiftly dilating pupils. His
figure lost its stark rigidity, softened into the chair, and, chin on
chest, hands dropped before him, he rested open-eyed, absolutely still.
"I'm afraid I've rather cooked Shaynor's goose," I said, bearing the fresh
drink to young Mr. Cashell. "Perhaps it was the chloric-ether."
"Oh, he's all right." The spade-bearded man glanced at him pityingly.
"Consumptives go off in those sort of doses very often. It's exhaustion...
I don't wonder. I dare say the liquor will do him good. It's grand stuff,"
he finished his share appreciatively. "Well, as I was saying--before he
interrupted--about this little coherer. The pinch of dust, you see, is
nickel-filings. The Hertzian waves, you see, come out of space from the
station that despatches 'em, and all these little particles are attracted
together--cohere, we call it--for just so long as the current passes
through them. Now, it's important to remember that the current is an
induced current. There are a good many kinds of induction----"
"Yes, but what _is_ induction?"
"That's rather hard to explain untechnically.
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