It was, I admit, a rather cumbersome and clumsy affair.
"Well, you see, Craig," I explained, "you put the top mirror
through the transom of a door and--"
Kennedy interrupted with a hearty burst of laughter. "But suppose
the door has no transom?" he asked, pointing to our own door.
I scratched my head, thoughtfully. I had assumed that the door
would have a transom. A moment later, Craig went to the cabinet
and drew out a tube about as big around as a putty blower and as
long.
"Now, here's what I call my detectascope," he remarked. "None of
your mirrors for me."
"I know," I said somewhat nettled, "but what can you see through
that putty blower? A key hole is just as good."
"Do you realize how little you can really see through a key hole?"
he replied confidently. "Try it over there."
I did and to tell the truth I could see merely a little part of
the hall. Then Kennedy inserted the detectascope.
"Look through that," he directed.
I put my eye to the eye-piece and gazed through the bulging lens
of the other end. I could see almost the whole hall.
"That," he explained, "is what is known as a fish-eye lens--a lens
that looks through an angle of some 180 degrees, almost twice that
of the widest angle lens I know of."
I said nothing, but tossed my own crude invention into the corner,
while Craig went back to work.
Pages:
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258