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Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset), 1874-1965

"The Magician"

Suddenly it was extinguished. She leaned forward and saw
that the bowl was empty.
The water had been consumed, as though it were straw, and not a drop
remained. She passed her hand absently across her forehead.
'But water cannot burn,' she muttered to herself.
It seemed that Haddo knew what she thought, for he smiled strangely.
'Do you know that nothing more destructive can be invented than this blue
powder, and I have enough to burn up all the water in Paris? Who dreamt
that water might burn like chaff?'
He paused, seeming to forget her presence. He looked thoughtfully at the
little silver box.
'But it can be made only in trivial quantities, at enormous expense and
with exceeding labour; it is so volatile that you cannot keep it for
three days. I have sometimes thought that with a little ingenuity I might
make it more stable, I might so modify it that, like radium, it lost no
strength as it burned; and then I should possess the greatest secret that
has ever been in the mind of man. For there would be no end of it.


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