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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"The Doings of Raffles Haw"

The air was filled
with the peculiar acid smell of ozone.
"The power there is immense," said Raffles Haw, superintending the
process, with his watch upon the palm of his hand. "It would reduce an
organic substance to protyle instantly. It is well to understand the
mechanism thoroughly, for any mistake might be a grave matter for the
operator. You are dealing with gigantic forces. But you perceive that
the lead is already beginning to turn."
Silvery dew-like drops had indeed begun to form upon the dull-coloured
mass, and to drop with a tinkle and splash into the glass troughs.
Slowly the lead melted away, like an icicle in the sun, the electrodes
ever closing upon it as it contracted, until they came together in the
centre, and a row of pools of quicksilver had taken the place of the
solid metal. Two smaller electrodes were plunged into the mercury,
which gradually curdled and solidified, until it had resumed the solid
form, with a yellowish brassy shimmer.
"What lies in the moulds now is platinum," remarked Raffles Haw.
"We must take it from the troughs and refix it in the large electrodes.
So! Now we turn on the current again. You see that it gradually takes
a darker and richer tint. Now I think that it is perfect.


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