Antonino took two bullets from his waistcoat pocket; they were unlike the ordinary globules, and resembled the long, pointed cylinders of modern guns. With a pair of pocket plyers, he broke one to exhibit the interior to Clemenceau; it was composed of two metals in curiously shaped segments and a chamber in one end contained a loose ball of another and heavier metal, on the principle of the quick-silver enhancing the force of the blow of the "loaded" executioner's sword. All had a novel aspect, but the chief inventor was familiar with the arrangement. "By the cavity in it I have reduced the weight of three to two," went on Antonino. "I am in hopes to put in fifty or sixty bullets at a time without making the arm too heavy, and that would suffice, considering that the replacement of the mass of projectiles requires no appreciable time, while the supply of explosive, liquefied air suffices for three hundred discharges. The repetition of the emissive force does not jar the gun, and the metal of our alloy does not show a strain although the gauge induces a pressure of fifty thousand pounds per square inch if it were accumulated." "And the injection valve?" "It works as easily by pressure on the disc, which replaces the trigger, perfectly." "That was your idea." "After you put me on the track," returned the Italian, gratefully. "Oh, I am still very ignorant in these matters." "Not more than I, a few months ago. I had not handled a firearm until--" he checked himself and frowned; then, tranquilly resuming, he said: "Labor, and you will reach the goal!" Antonino looked on silently as his instructor took the gun and inserted the bullet, but when he was going over to the open window, with the evident intention to fire off into the garden, he followed and laid his hand on his arm, saying animatedly: "Do not fire!" "Why not?" returned Clemenceau, but without astonishment. "We live in a desert since we have frightened our neighbors away. For two leagues around, nobody is about at this hour and everybody within our walls is accustomed to the noise of the gas exploding." "Not everybody," remonstrated Antonino. "Madame Clemenceau has returned home and the sound frightens her because so strange." "It is so. That's another matter," replied the inventor, putting the rifle down in the corner without haste. "Did you know it? Have you seen her?" cried Antonino, struck by the remarkable unconcern of his master. "I knew of it by seeing her, yes, as I was coming down stairs a while since--she was going to her rooms from this one, with her maid." "It's a lucky thing that Mademoiselle Daniels refused to occupy them!" exclaimed Antonino. "Why did you not speak to your wife?"