“There are, there are, there are,” said Prokop through his teeth. “Please, I’ll demonstrate to you . . .”
“An obsolete theory,” said the professor grufly. “There are no such things as atoms, only gumetals. Do you know what a gumetal is?”
Prokop sweated with fear. He had never heard the word in his life. Gumetal? “I don’t know,” he said in confusion.
“There you are,” said Wald dryly. “And yet you presume to offer yourself for examination. What do you know about Krakatit?”
Prokop stopped uneasily. “Krakatit,” he whispered, “that is . . . that is . . . a completely new explosive, which . . . which up to the present . . .”
“How is it ignited? How? How does it explode?”
“By Hertzian waves,” croaked Prokop with relief.
“How do you know?”
“Because the Krakatit which I prepared exploded for no reason at all. Because . . . because there was no other reason. And because . . .”
“Well?”
“. . . I synthesized it . . . du-du-during high frequency oscillation. This isn’t yet explained, but I think that . . . that there were some sort of electromagnetic waves.”
“There were. I know. Now write down the chemical formula for Krakatit.”
Prokop took up a piece of chalk and scribbled his formula on the board.
“Read it.”
