As I suspected, the opening of the lid is effected in the darkness of the night. Alas, for want of sufficient light the solution of the problem which interests me so greatly will escape me! The Reduvius will keep her secret; I shall see nothing.... But yes, I do see something; for perseverance has unexpected resources. A week full of failures has already gone by, when, unexpectedly, in the brilliant light of nine o’clock in the morning, a few late-comers suddenly begin to open their boxes. Had the house caught fire just then, I doubt whether I should have stirred a limb. The sight held me rooted to the floor. Let the reader judge for himself. Unprovided with the thread-like rivets employed by the Pentatoma, the Reduvius’ lid adheres to the shell by its mere position and a perfect fit. I see it lifting at one side and hinging on the other with a slowness that defies the magnifying powers of the lens. What is happening in the egg seems to be a long and laborious process. But the lid opens wider; and through the chink I see something glistening. This is an iridescent pellicle, which protrudes, and, as it does so, pushes back the lid. Now a spherical blister emerges from the shell, gradually growing larger, like a soap-bubble blown from a straw. Pushed farther and farther back by the expansion of this bladder, the lid falls off. Then the bomb explodes: that is to say, the capsule, inflated beyond the limits of its resistance, bursts open at the top. This envelope, an extremely thin membrane, usually adheres to the edge of the orifice, where it forms a high white rim. At other times the explosion detaches it and shoots it out of the shell. Under these conditions it is a delicate goblet, hemispherical, with torn edges, and with its lower part continued by a fine, twisted stem. It is finished; the thoroughfare is open. The tiny insect can now emerge by bursting through the pellicle caught in the opening, or by dislodging it; or it may find an absolutely free passage, when the burst bladder has left the egg. It is all simply miraculous. To escape from his box, the Pentatoma invented the three-ribbed mitre and the hydraulic ram; the Reduvius has invented the explosive bomb. The first goes to work gently; the second, a brutal dynamiter, blows the roof off his prison with a bomb. With what explosive, and how is the liberating shell loaded? At the moment of rupture nothing visible bursts from the bubble; nothing liquid moistens the torn edge. The contents, therefore, were assuredly gaseous. The rest escapes me. One observation, which I was unable to repeat, is not enough in this delicate matter. Reducing it to mere probabilities I will propose the following explanation: