select audience the secret on which the success of the expedition was to depend.
“Yes,” said Hubert, “the things I showed you were cylinders of aluminium, enclosing steel tubes bored in the original ingot. These tubes all end in a tap closed by a screw permitting the sudden or gradual escape, as you please, of the liquefied hydrogen gas it contains.”
“Hydrogen!” the three listeners could not help exclaiming, as they started in their chairs. “Hydrogen!” repeated Schnecker to himself, as he clenched his fists.
“Yes” proudly said Hubert, “that is the discovery which will render immortal the name of my brother, Marc D’Ermont.”
The German had recovered himself. He felt not the cold all he felt was his anger. In the darkness which enveloped him his conscience was luminous enough with its hate and jealousy.
“Your brother’s glory!” he murmured. “If you have told the truth, Hubert D’Ermont, if this admirable discovery has been really made, it will be known nowhere beyond the glacial desolate land where we are, and it will die unknown to the rest of mankind.”
At this moment a short guttural bark was uttered from the other side of the door.
“Ah!” said Schnecker, in a low voice, “the dog is also there!”
There was silence in Isabelle’s room; and then the German distinctly heard them say,—
“There is some one in the laboratory! Let us look!”
The chemist saw the danger of being caught in the darkness. Quickly he struck a match and lighted the candle, so that when Hubert appeared at the door, followed by his companions and Salvator, all looking exceedingly suspicious, they found Schnecker peacefully inspecting the interior of a retort.
“Confound it! Monsieur Schnecker,” said the doctor, “you are going in for frost-bites of the first water!”
This remark recalled the chemist to a sense of his position.
He shivered; and looking at his hands, he saw they were quite blue.
“How careless you are!” said Servan. “Quick, get into Mademoiselle de Keralio’s room, or in two minutes you will lose your legs.”
And he pushed him into the warm room, which the mere opening of the door had sent down ten degrees in temperature.
When Schnecker had gone, the others looked at each other with painful surprise. The unexpected meeting had certainly not removed their suspicions. Quite the contrary. The chemist, warmed and refreshed, could remember only one thing. He had seen in Isabelle’s room the strong box he had seen in Hubert’s cabin on the ship. They had forgotten to shut it, and through the half-open door he could distinguish a quantity of tubes stored away in its depths.
CHAPTER V
WINTER QUARTERS.
T HE cold had returned triumphantly to its empire in the polar night, which draped the sky in its veils of grief. Owing to the wise prevision which had been present at the construction and installation of Fort Esperance, the winterers had not as yet suffered much. Between’‘ the terrible temperature without and that of the stoves constantly burning within, there was a difference of from thirty to forty degrees.
By the advice of the two doctors there had been erected before each door a kind of halfway shed, to enable the men going out to become accustomed to the enormous difference between the two temperatures. What remained of the day was not worthy of the name. It was a kind of vague twilight, occasionally edged with the brilliant hues of the extreme horizon. In preparation for the grand departure fixed for the 15th of April, the shortening days of autumn had been devoted to explorations in the neighbourhood, and bit by bit the travellers became acquainted with their domain. These expeditions were always accompanied by sledges drawn sometimes by dogs, sometimes by the men themselves. In either case the apprenticeship was a bitter one, and every day the pole more clearly showed with what bitterness of resistance it would defend its frontier against human curiosity.
The
“Yes,” said Hubert, “the things I showed you were cylinders of aluminium, enclosing steel tubes bored in the original ingot. These tubes all end in a tap closed by a screw permitting the sudden or gradual escape, as you please, of the liquefied hydrogen gas it contains.”
“Hydrogen!” the three listeners could not help exclaiming, as they started in their chairs. “Hydrogen!” repeated Schnecker to himself, as he clenched his fists.
“Yes” proudly said Hubert, “that is the discovery which will render immortal the name of my brother, Marc D’Ermont.”
The German had recovered himself. He felt not the cold all he felt was his anger. In the darkness which enveloped him his conscience was luminous enough with its hate and jealousy.
“Your brother’s glory!” he murmured. “If you have told the truth, Hubert D’Ermont, if this admirable discovery has been really made, it will be known nowhere beyond the glacial desolate land where we are, and it will die unknown to the rest of mankind.”
At this moment a short guttural bark was uttered from the other side of the door.
“Ah!” said Schnecker, in a low voice, “the dog is also there!”
There was silence in Isabelle’s room; and then the German distinctly heard them say,—
“There is some one in the laboratory! Let us look!”
The chemist saw the danger of being caught in the darkness. Quickly he struck a match and lighted the candle, so that when Hubert appeared at the door, followed by his companions and Salvator, all looking exceedingly suspicious, they found Schnecker peacefully inspecting the interior of a retort.
“Confound it! Monsieur Schnecker,” said the doctor, “you are going in for frost-bites of the first water!”
This remark recalled the chemist to a sense of his position.
He shivered; and looking at his hands, he saw they were quite blue.
“How careless you are!” said Servan. “Quick, get into Mademoiselle de Keralio’s room, or in two minutes you will lose your legs.”
And he pushed him into the warm room, which the mere opening of the door had sent down ten degrees in temperature.
When Schnecker had gone, the others looked at each other with painful surprise. The unexpected meeting had certainly not removed their suspicions. Quite the contrary. The chemist, warmed and refreshed, could remember only one thing. He had seen in Isabelle’s room the strong box he had seen in Hubert’s cabin on the ship. They had forgotten to shut it, and through the half-open door he could distinguish a quantity of tubes stored away in its depths.
CHAPTER V
WINTER QUARTERS.
T HE cold had returned triumphantly to its empire in the polar night, which draped the sky in its veils of grief. Owing to the wise prevision which had been present at the construction and installation of Fort Esperance, the winterers had not as yet suffered much. Between’‘ the terrible temperature without and that of the stoves constantly burning within, there was a difference of from thirty to forty degrees.
By the advice of the two doctors there had been erected before each door a kind of halfway shed, to enable the men going out to become accustomed to the enormous difference between the two temperatures. What remained of the day was not worthy of the name. It was a kind of vague twilight, occasionally edged with the brilliant hues of the extreme horizon. In preparation for the grand departure fixed for the 15th of April, the shortening days of autumn had been devoted to explorations in the neighbourhood, and bit by bit the travellers became acquainted with their domain. These expeditions were always accompanied by sledges drawn sometimes by dogs, sometimes by the men themselves. In either case the apprenticeship was a bitter one, and every day the pole more clearly showed with what bitterness of resistance it would defend its frontier against human curiosity.
The
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