In the crowd was a sudden thrill that was almost murmur; and Theodore hesitated before he answered, his tongue grown dry in his mouth.... Were these people, these outcasts from civilization, hoping to find in him a guide and saviour who should lighten the burden of their barbarism by leading them back to the science which had once been a part of their daily life, but of which they had no practical knowledge?... If so, how far was it safe to lie to them? and how far, having lied, could he disguise his dire ignorance of processes mechanical and chemical? What would they hope from him, expect in the way of achievement and proof?... Miracles, perhaps—sheer blank impossibilities.... “Science—they taught it you,” the old man was reiterating, insisting. “Yes, they taught it me,” he stammered, delaying his answer. “That is to say, I used to attend lectures....” “Then you know chemistry? Gases and how to make them?... And machines—do you know about machines? You could help us with machines—tell us how to make one?” The dirty old face peered up at him, waiting for his “Yes”; and he knew the other faces that he could not see were peering from the shadow with the same odd, sinister eagerness. All waiting, expectant.... The temptation to lie was overwhelming and what held him back was no scruple of conscience but the brute impossibility of making good his claim to a knowledge he did not possess. The utter ignorance betrayed by the form of the old man’s speech—“You know chemistry—do you know about machines?”—would make no allowance for the difficulty of applying knowledge and see no difference between theory and instant practice.... In his hopelessness he gave them the truth and the truth only. “I have told you already I am not an engineer—I have never had any training in mechanics. As for chemistry—I had to attend lectures at school and college. But that was all—I never really studied it and I’m afraid I remember very little—almost nothing that would be of any practical use to you.... I don’t know what you want but, whatever it is, it would need some sort of apparatus—a chemist has to have his tools like other men. Even if I were a trained chemist I should need those—even if I were a trained chemist I couldn’t separate gases with my bare hands. For that sort of thing you need a laboratory—a workshop—the proper appliances.... I’ll work for you in any way that’s possible—any way—but you mustn’t expect impossibilities, chemistry and mechanics from a man who hasn’t been trained in them.... And why should you expect me to do what you can’t do yourselves—why should you? Is it fair?...” There was no immediate answer, but suddenly he knew that the silence around him had ceased to be threatening and tense. The old man’s eyes had left his own; they were moving round the room and searching, as it seemed, for assent.... In the end they came back to Theodore—and judgment was given.