Atoms -- Fiction; Chemists -- Fiction; Love stories; Science fiction
The Very Young Man was the first to reach it; the Banker could see him
vault upwards and land astraddle upon its top. The Doctor was up in a
moment more, and the two were reaching down their hands to help up the
Big Business Man. The Banker slid the spoon carefully along the floor
towards the ring, but the Big Business Man waved it away. The Banker
laid the spoon aside, and when he looked at the ring again the Big
Business Man was up beside his companions, standing upright with them
upon the top of the ring.
The Banker stared so long and intently, his vision blurred. He closed
his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again the little figures
on the top of the ring had disappeared.
The Banker felt suddenly sick and faint in the closeness of the room.
Rising to his feet, he hurried to a window and threw up the sash. A gust
of rain and wind beat against his face as he stood leaning on the sill.
He felt much better after a few moments; and remembering his friends, he
closed the window and turned back towards the ring. At first he thought
he could just make them out, but when he got down on the floor close
beside the ring, he saw nothing.
Almost unnerved, he sat down heavily upon the floor beside the
handkerchief, leaning on one elbow. A corner of the handkerchief was
turned back, and one side was ruffled where the wind from the opened
window had blown it up. He smoothed out the handkerchief carefully.
For some time the Banker sat quiet, reclining uncomfortably upon the
hard floor. The room was very still--its silence oppressed him. He
stared stolidly at the ring, his head in a turmoil. The ring looked
oddly out of place, lying over near one edge of the handkerchief; he had
always seen it in the center before. Abruptly he put out his hand and
picked it up. Then remembrance of the Doctor's warning flooded over him.
In sudden panic he put the ring down again, almost in the same place at
the edge of the handkerchief.
Trembling all over, he looked at his watch; it was a quarter to nine. He
rose stiffly to his feet and sank into his chair. After a moment he
lighted a cigar. The handkerchief lay at his feet; he could just see the
ring over the edge of his knees. For a long time he sat staring.
The striking of a church clock nearby roused him. He shook himself
together and blinked at the empty room. In his hand he held an unlighted
cigar; mechanically he raised it to his lips. The sound of the church
bells died away; the silence of the room and the loneliness of it made
him shiver. He looked at his watch again. Ten o'clock! Still another
hour to wait and watch, and then he could take the ring back to the
Museum. He glanced down at the ring; it was still lying by the edge of
the handkerchief.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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