Naturally the thwarted man’s first days at sea were passed in heavy mood, but nothing could alter his determination to win her sooner or later. And nothing could deprive him of the silent comfort of the sea. Its general color was grimly dark, but near the prow it was like a low-flying bird, all springtime beryl and celestite. A little farther out it became translucent olivine. On it the sunlight played in rainbows, touching the foam into pink calcite or winy fluorspar.

By and by he sought the ship’s doctor and had his heart examined. It proved to be normal again, but as he continued to ask questions about heart disease, the physician referred him to a work by one Sir Clifford. Just now Sir Clifford was taking care of a certain famous old baron who was about to die. The heart of Lord Fortinbras had served him well, but was worn out.

Had Mr. Mahan ever read Lord Fortinbras’ book of travel—the one based on the log of his yacht? Mr. Mahan never had, but would do so. The fact was that Mr. Mahan’s instructions were sending him post-haste to get the signature of that same old baron before it was secured by death or a Chicago lawyer named Brinkerhoff.

He had never seen a lord. He had been advised by Dr. Rich to be a good lord himself, but that was a figure of speech having no reference to lords terrestrial. He had small doubt that when he should come to address a baron he should make a fool of himself.

The sweet salt days sped along, and the shores of England appeared. That meant the home of Moseley. Yet why should he single out one name or one country? He no longer saw nation pitted against nation, but the race pitted against the reticence of God.

To Marvin the advance of physics and chemistry was the most exciting thing on earth. The researchers were watching each other, checking each other, helping each other, bound to tell the exact truth no matter where it led. The two sciences were steadily becoming one science, and the great advance continued day by day as if one infinite reluctant mind were slowly revealing itself.

He longed to visit certain laboratories, especially one at Cambridge and one at Manchester. Thomson and Rutherford were like scouts on the advance line.

When the steamer was well into the channel, past Cape de la Hogue, he thought of the ride from Ghent to Aix. The scouts were like those riders. Faraday dropped, but Maxwell went on. Maxwell dropped, but Hertz went on. Hertz dropped, but Crookes and Rayleigh and Thomson and Moseley went on. Now Crookes and Rayleigh and Moseley had dropped, but still the good horse Roland plunged ahead.

And Marvin Mahan was riding a mule to Sussex. He bore the unimportant news that Chase Mahan would pay a dollar forty an acre for something like half a million acres, which he intended to sell to Asher Ferry before the buyer knew who was behind the deal.