nothing stood in their books against him. He was a student, whose
attention, for years, had been given to the subject of explosives. To
further show that he was entirely unselfish in this matter, he added
that he had no desire to enrich himself by his discovery. He had a
private income quite sufficient for his needs, and he intended to give,
and not to sell, his secret to France. The only proviso he made was
that his name should be linked with this terrible compound, which he
maintained would secure universal peace to the world, for, after its
qualities were known, no nation would dare to fight with another. The
sole ambition of the inventor, said the letter in conclusion, was to
place his name high in the list of celebrated French scientists. If,
however, the Minister refused to treat with him he would go to other
Governments until his invention was taken up, but the Government which
secured it would at once occupy the leading position among nations. He
entreated the Minister, therefore, for the sake of his country, to make
at least one test of the compound.

It was, as I have said, before the time of the Paris explosions, and
ministers were not so suspicious then as they are now. The Minister
made inquiries regarding the scientist, who lived in a little suburb of
Paris, and found that there was nothing against him on the books of the
police. Inquiry showed that all he had said about his own private
fortune was true. The Minister therefore wrote to the inventor, and
named an hour at which he would receive him in his private office.

The hour and the man arrived together. The Minister had had some slight
doubts regarding his sanity, but the letter had been so
straightforwardly written, and the appearance of the man himself was so
kindly and benevolent and intelligent that the doubts of the official
vanished.