There was a peculiar glitter in his eye. “Come along and you'll see,” chuckled Hawkins, beginning the ascent. “Oh, I'll tell you what,” he continued, pausing on the second landing, “these women make me tired!” “Indeed?” “Yes, they do. You needn't look huffy, Griggs. It isn't your wife or my wife. It's the whole sex. They chatter and prattle and make silly jokes about things they're absolutely incapable of understanding.” “My dear Hawkins,” I said soothingly, “you wrong the fair sex.” “Oh, I wrong 'em, eh? Well, what woman knows the first thing about explosives?” demanded Hawkins heatedly. “Dynamite or rhexite or meganite or carbonite or stonite or vigorite or cordite or ballistite or thorite or maxamite----” “Stop, Hawkins, stop!” I cried. “Well, that's all, anyway,” said the inventor. “But what woman knows enough about them to argue the thing intelligently? And yet my wife tells me--I, who have spent nearly half a lifetime in scientific labor--she actually tells me to--to shut up, when I hint at having some slight knowledge of the subject!” “I know, Hawkins, but your scientific labors have made her--and me--suffer in the past.” “Oh, they have, have they?” grunted Hawkins, climbing toward the top floor. “Well, come up, Griggs.” I knew the door at which he stopped. It was that of Hawkins' workshop or laboratory. It was on the floor with the servants, who, poor things, probably did not know or dared not object to the risk they ran. “What's the peculiar humming?” I asked, pausing on the threshold. “Only my electric motor,” sneered Hawkins. “It won't bite you, Griggs. Come in.” “And what is this big, brass bolt on the door?” I continued. “That? Oh, that's an idea!” cried the inventor. “That's my new springlock. Just look at that lock, Griggs. It simply can't be opened from the outside, and only from the inside by one who knows how to work it. And I'm the only one who knows. When I patent this thing----” “Well, I wouldn't close the door, Hawkins,” I murmured. “You might faint or something, and I'd be shut in here till somebody remembered to hunt for me.” “Bah!” exclaimed Hawkins, slamming the door, violently. “Really, for a grown man, you're the most chicken-hearted individual I ever met. But--what's the use of talking about it? To get back to explosives----” “Oh, never mind the explosives,” I said wearily. “You're right, and that settles it.” “See here,” said Hawkins sharply; “I had no intention of mentioning explosives to-night, for a particular reason. In a day or two, you'll hear the country ringing with my name, in connection with explosives. But since the subject has come up, if you want to listen to me for a few minutes, I'll interest you mightily.” Kind Heaven! Could I have realized then the bitter truth of those last words! “Yes, sir,” the inventor went on, “as I was saying--or was I saying it?--they all have their faults--dynamite, rhexite, meganite, carbonite, ston----” “You went over that list before.”