I mention it because, though it did not impress me much when I
read it, it at once leaped into my mind when the interminable
hours were over and I rejoined Kennedy. He was bending over a new
microscope.
"This is a rubber age, Walter," he began, "and the stories of men
who have been interested in rubber often sound like fiction."
He slipped a slide under the microscope, looked at it and then
motioned to me to do the same. "Here is a very peculiar culture
which I have found in some of that blood," he commented. "The
germs are much larger than bacteria and they can be seen with a
comparatively low power microscope swiftly darting between the
blood cells, brushing them aside, but not penetrating them as some
parasites, like that of malaria, do. Besides, spectroscope tests
show the presence of a rather well-known chemical in that blood."
"A poisoning, then?" I ventured. "Perhaps he suffered from the
disease that many rubber workers get from the bisulphide of
carbon. He must have done a good deal of vulcanising of his own
rubber, you know.
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