The Banker stood up among them. “Tell me what I’ve got to do,” he said helplessly. “You’re going all but me; I’ll be left behind alone.”
The Big Business Man laid his hand on the Banker’s shoulder affectionately. “Don’t look so sad, George,” he said, with an attempt at levity. “We’re not leaving you forever—we’re coming back.”
The Banker pressed his friend’s hand. His usual crusty manner was quite gone now; he seemed years older.
The Doctor produced the same spoon he had used when the Chemist made his departure into the ring. “I’ve kept it all this time,” he said, smiling. “Perhaps it will bring us luck.” He handed it to the Banker.
“What you have to do is this,” he continued seriously. “We shall all take an equal amount of the drug at the same instant. I hope it will act upon each of us at the same rate, so that we may diminish uniformly in size, and thus keep together.”
“Gosh!” said the Very Young Man. “I never thought of that. Suppose it doesn’t?”
“Then we shall have to adjust the difference by taking other smaller amounts of the drug. But I think probably it will.
“You must be ready,” he went on to the Banker, “to help us on to the ring if necessary.”
“Or put us back if we fall off,” said the Very Young Man. “I’m going to sit still until I’m pretty small. Gracious, it’s going to feel funny.”
“After we have disappeared,” continued the Doctor, “you will wait, say, until eleven o’clock. Watch the ring carefully—some of us may have to come back before that time. At eleven o’clock pack up everything”—he looked around the littered room with a smile—“and take the ring back to the Biological Society.”
“Keep your eye on it on the way back,” warned the Very Young Man. “Suppose we decide to come out some time later tonight—you can’t tell.”
“I’ll watch it all night tonight, here and at the Museum,” said the Banker, mopping his forehead.
“Good scheme,” said the Very Young Man approvingly. “Anything might happen.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said the Doctor, “I believe we’re all ready. Come on, Will.”
The Big Business Man was standing by the window, looking out intently. He evidently did not hear the remark addressed to him, for he paid no attention. The Doctor joined him.
Through the window they could see the street below, crowded now with scurrying automobiles. The sidewalks were thronged with people—theater-goers, hurrying forward, seeking eagerly their evening’s pleasure. It had been raining, and the wet pavements shone with long, blurred yellow glints from the thousands of lights above. Down the street they could see a huge blazing theater sign, with the name of a popular actress spelt in letters of fire.
The Big Business Man threw up the window sash and took a deep breath of the moist, cool air of the night.
“Good-by, old world,” he murmured with emotion. “Shall I see you again, I wonder?” He stood a moment longer, silently staring at the scene before him. Then abruptly he closed the window, pulled down the shade, and turned back to the room.
“Come on,” said the Very Young Man impatiently. “It’s five minutes after eight. Let’s get started.”
“Just one thing before we start,” said the Doctor, as they gathered in the center of the room. “We must understand, gentlemen, from the moment we first take the drug, until we reach our final smallest size, it is imperative, or at least highly desirable, that we keep together. We start by taking four of the pellets each, according to the memoranda Rogers left. By Jove!” he interrupted himself, “that’s one thing important we did nearly forget.”
He went to his coat, and from his wallet took several typewritten sheets of paper.
“I made three copies,” he said, handing them to his companions. “Put them away carefully; the front pocket will be most convenient, probably.
“It may not be hard for us to keep together,” continued the Doctor. “On the other hand, we may find it extremely difficult, if not quite impossible. In the latter event we will meet at the city of Arite.
“There are two things we must consider. First, we shall be constantly changing size with relation to our surroundings. In proportion to each other, we must remain normal in size if we can. Secondly we shall be traveling—changing position in our surroundings. So far as that aspect of the trip is concerned, it will not be more difficult for us to keep together, probably, than during any adventurous journey here in this world.
“If through accident or any unforeseen circumstance we are separated in size, the one being smallest shall wait for the others. That can be accomplished by taking a very small quantity of the other drug—probably merely by touching one of the pellets to the tongue. Do I make myself clear?” His friends nodded assent.
“If any great separation in relative size occurs,” the Doctor went on, “a discrepancy sufficient to make the smallest of us invisible for a time to the others, then another problem presents itself. We must be very careful, in that event, not to change our position in space—not to keep on traveling, in other words—or else, when we become the same size once more, we will be out of sight of one another. Geographically separated, so to speak,” the Doctor finished with a smile.
“I am so explicit on this point of keeping together,” he continued, “because—well, I personally do not want to undertake even part of this journey alone.”
“You’re darn right—me neither,” agreed the Very Young Man emphatically. “Let’s get going.”
“I guess that’s all,” said the Doctor, with a last glance around, and finally facing the Banker. “Good-by, George.”
The Banker was quite overcome, and without a word he shook hands with each of his friends.
The three men sat beside each other on the floor, close to the handkerchief and ring; the Banker sat in his chair on the other side, facing them, spoon in hand. In silence they each took four of the pellets. Then the Banker saw them close their eyes; he saw the Big Business Man put his hands suddenly on the floor as though to steady himself.
The Banker gripped the arms of his chair firmly. He knew exactly what to expect, yet now when his friends began slowly to diminish in size he was filled with surprise and horror. For several minutes no one spoke. Then the Very Young Man opened his eyes, looked around dizzily for an instant, and began feeling with his hands the belt at his waist, his shoes, wrist-watch, and the pouches under his armpits.
“It’s all right,” he said with an enthusiasm that contrasted strangely with the tremor in his voice. “The belt’s getting smaller, too. We’re going to be able to take everything with us.”
Again silence fell on the room, broken only by the sound of the three men on the floor continually shifting their positions as they grew smaller. In another moment the Doctor clambered unsteadily to his feet and, taking a step backward, leaned up against the cylindrical mahogany leg of the center-table, flinging his arms around it. His head did not reach the table-top.
The Very Young Man and the Big Business Man were on their feet now, too, standing at the edge of the handkerchief, and clinging to one another for support. The Banker looked down at them and tried to smile. The Very Young Man waved his hand, and the Banker found voice to say: “Good-by, my boy.”
“Good-by, sir,” echoed the Very Young Man. “We’re making it.”
Steadily they grew smaller. By this time the Doctor had become far too small for his arms to encircle the leg of the table. The Banker looked down to the floor, and saw him standing beside the table leg, leaning one hand against it as one would lean against the great stone column of some huge building.
“Good-by, Frank,” said