EUREKA!
Malcolm Jameson

	Professor Gleason said, "All right," and, hung up the phone. "The Mad Scientist is on the way over," he told his lab director, Max Sunderberg. "Says he has made a great discovery."

	"Uh-huh," said Sunderberg, adjusting the flame under a retort. "He often does. Did you ever hear what drove him mad?"

	"There are several accounts. Which version do you know?"

	"The one about the hole tongs. He always raves when you mention them. They work perfectly, but nobody will finance them. It broke his heart."

	Sunderberg stepped to the sink and began washing his hands. "M. S. got interested in holes when he was just a little shaver. He started collecting them—worm holes first, then woodpecker holes. He invented a gadget he called the hole extractor. You insert it in the hole, expand it a little, then give it a twist. When you pull it out the hole comes out with it. His attic is full of cases of those holes."

	"What on earth does a wall-less hole look like?"

	"Nothing. That's what makes M. S. mad. Nobody can 'see 'em. An unincased hole is just a bunch of air. Well, he improved his device until he hit on a big heavy-duty hole puller. He thought it would be a good idea to buy up used oil wells, lift out the holes an sell 'em."

	"How did he propose to handle holes a mile or more long?"

	"Oh, he never meant to use 'em again for oil wells. He was going to saw 'em up into short lengths and sell 'em for post holes—"

	There was a knock at the door. Gleason opened it. There stood the Mad Scientist with a two-gallon water bottle in one hand. It seemed to be nearly full.

	"Here it is," said the M. S. proudly, and promptly proceeded to decant the contents of his bottle into a handy beaker.

	"Here is what?"

	"You'll see," the M. S. said. He began helping himself to various chemicals about the laboratory. He dropped in a big lump of sulphur. It dissolved instantly. Iron, gold, platinum, rubber, a brickbat—all went the same way. The M. S. kept on. At the end of the hour he had demonstrated that his mixture would dissolve anything put into it.

	"I begin to see," said Sunder-berg, with a strange gleam in his eye. "But tell me, will it dissolve glass?"

	"Oh, sure," said the M. S. He grabbed up a handful of pipettes and broke them like macaroni. They disappeared in the liquid like sugar does in hot water. He tossed in a quartz crystal, a handful of sand, and a glass cube that was weighting down some papers. They went, too.

	"It dissolves anything. It is the universal solvent."

	"Marvelous!" gasped the two sane scientists.