“Big storm,” Tom answered. He jumped out of bed and walked to the window. A moment later he uttered an exclamation.
“What’s doing?” asked Ned, stretching lazily.
“Those three fellows are down on the shore doing something to their motorboat,” reported Tom. “Looks as if it had been damaged in the storm, which is a fierce one, let me tell you. They seem to be making repairs.”
“Maybe they’re going away and leave us alone,” suggested Ned.
“They may be going away,” assented Tom. “But they won’t leave us, I’m thinking. They’ll take us with them. But something evidently has happened.”
In his eagerness to see what was going on at the shore of the lake within view of the barred window, Ned jumped out of bed. In doing so he overbalanced himself and in order not to fall he had to do a hop, skip and a jump across the room. He brought up hard against the opposite wall, fairly jarring the place. As he stopped his somewhat mad and erratic career he uttered a cry.
“Hurt yourself?” asked Tom anxiously.
“No! But look! Man dear, look!”
Ned’s voice was excited, and no wonder! It was evident that in his collision against the wall he had struck a hidden spring which operated the mechanism of a secret sliding door. For there, before the eyes of the two captives, was an opening, large enough for them to pass through, in a stooping position, and leading to the top of a flight of stairs.
“A secret door!” cried Tom. “How’d you discover it?”
“I didn’t,” Ned answered. “It just happened. I bumped against the wall and must have struck the spring. What’s it for, Tom?”
Into the eyes of the young inventor shone a new and hopeful light.
“I don’t know what its original use was,” he said slowly. “But for us it offers a way of escape. Come on, Ned! We’ll light out while those fellows are busy down at the boat. Grab up some food and come on.”
Tom began stuffing some bread and meat into his pockets after hastily dressing, which was a short operation, as the young men had not removed all of their clothes the night before. Then Tom took another look through the window.
“They’re still tinkering over the motor,” he reported. “It’s now or never, Ned! This storm came just at the right time. Come on!”
“But we don’t know where that secret staircase leads,” objected Ned Newton as he followed his chum’s example about the food.
“And it doesn’t make much difference, either. It leads out of this room. That’s all we have to know now. I think it must have been put in to allow the secret removal of smuggled or stolen goods—possibly bootleg liquor. Probably the stairway ends in one of the rooms below. But as those three scoundrels are out of the way we can leave.”
“Maybe we’ll be trapped at the bottom, Tom. There must be a door there, too.”
“Probably there is; but it’s likely to be a sliding, secret door, and, consequently, won’t be very strong. We can burst it out, maybe. Anyhow it’s worth trying. Come on!”
Then, as the storm rose to new heights of fury, the two prisoners slipped into the secret opening and began descending the dark stairs on their way to escape.
Usingthe utmost caution, though they felt quite certain their movements would be muffled by the noise of the storm that raged about the lonely house, Tom Swift and Ned Newton made their way through the narrow, dark passage. It was so low that they had to stoop and, as the way was strange to them, Tom, who was in the lead, proceeded carefully. He kept his hands outstretched, one in front of him and the other pressed against a side wall. Nor did he let his weight bear on his feet when descending from one step to another until he was sure it was firm and solid.
The house was not large, therefore the secret stairway built in the walls could not be very long. So in a comparatively short time, though to the two young men it seemed long enough, the inventor came to the end of the passage and stopped.
“Well?” whispered Ned, behind his chum, after waiting impatiently for a short time.
“I don’t know whether it’s well or ill,” Tom answered. “But I’ve come to a wall or a door and I can find no means of opening it—if it is a door. So we can’t go any farther without breaking through.”
“Burst it open, then!” advised Ned with force. “We’ve got to get loose!”
“It’s bound to make a noise,” Tom went on, trying the second secret door by pushing on it, thus determining that it was not of very solid construction. “But I think the racket of the storm will cover it. Are you ready for a dash?”
“Sure!” replied Ned. “We’re going to get good and wet, though.”
Even in the secret passage where they were crouched, the noise of the storm came to them, and it seemed to be increasing in fury. The wind moaned, shrieked, and whistled around the island house and the rain came down in rattling sheets that played a tattoo on the sides and roof of the building.
“Here goes!” murmured Tom in a tense voice.
He drew back a little and when a sudden and louder burst of the storm’s fury enveloped the house, the young inventor hurled himself, back foremost, against the door.
There was a crackling and splintering of wood and Tom almost fell, so suddenly was he precipitated through the broken door. Recovering himself as best he could, Tom Swift saw that he had come out into a small passageway.
There was another door in front of him—an ordinary one fastened with bolts in plain view, and the passage was lighted by a window near the ceiling. Ned followed his chum through the broken secret door and the two stood for a moment, listening for anything which might indicate that their escape had been discovered.
But no sounds came to them save the noise of the storm, more in evidence now that they were closer to the outer air. Then Tom stepped to the locked door and, pushing back the bolts, swung it open. He had a momentary fear that it might lead into another strong room, but, to his own delighted surprise, as well as that of Ned, it gave out of doors and a moment later the two escaping captives stood in the wind and rain beneath the forest trees, free!
“That was luck!” murmured Ned.
“But we aren’t out of the woods yet,” replied Tom.
This was true in a double sense. The island in Lake Carlopa was densely wooded, and, so far as the young men knew, uninhabited save by the unscrupulous men who had kidnapped them. The sinister name of the place—Rattlesnake Island—kept away many campers who otherwise might have made the place popular. Perhaps, years before, there had been many of the deadly reptiles in the thickets, but it was doubtful if many were there now.
However, Tom and Ned did not give this a thought. Their main idea was to get as far as possible away from the house before Janner, Snogg and Torpy discovered that the prisoners had escaped.
“Come on!” murmured Tom, plunging off into the rain-drenched woods, followed by Ned. “They may be after us at any minute.”
But evidently the scoundrels were too much occupied with repairing their motorboat, for the two escaping captives had a glimpse of the unsavory trio grouped about it on the beach as they threaded their way through the forest.
“Whew, but I’m getting wet!” gasped Ned, as they crossed a little clearing and caught the full force of the downpour.
“This storm was the best thing that could happen to us,” Tom said.
“How come?”
“Except for the noise it made, the racket I produced when I broke that door would have given the alarm. Yes, this storm saved us. Don’t mind a little wetting.”
“A little wetting!” good-naturedly chuckled Ned. “This is about the biggest drenching I ever saw—except when you went into the lake.”
On they plunged, taking little heed of whither they went so long as they put distance between themselves and the three men. Then, when it was evident there was to be no immediate pursuit, they slackened their pace and began to make plans.
“What are we going to do, Tom?” Ned asked, pausing beneath a shelving ledge of rock that afforded partial shelter from the dashing rain and wind. “We’re still far from safe.”
“We ought to get to the shore—as far away from those fellows as we can—and signal some passing boat. There ought to be plenty of craft passing up and down the lake, though there’ll be more after this storm lets up. We’ve got to get back to the mainland. There’s no telling what mischief this gang may be up to at my works. The three scoundrels here are only part of the crowd.”
“I guess you’re right there, Tom. A boat headed for the mainland would just about suit me now. I’d like to let my folks know I’m all right.”
“So should I,” agreed Tom. “Dad will be in a fit when Koku and Mr. Damon go back and tell him I fell overboard.”
“They must have seen those fellows haul you into their boat,” Ned suggested.
“Naturally, they did. But that won’t make dad feel any easier. Yes, we want to get back home!”
However, there seemed to be no prospect of that in the immediate future. The storm continued unabated and no boats passed Rattlesnake Island, at least near the shore the two captives dared approach. They might have had better luck on the other side, for there lay the usual channel, but the scoundrels’ motorboat was there and the fugitives, therefore, must keep away.
At last, Ned’s watch, which had not been taken from him, indicated noon.
“Whew!” exclaimed the young manager when he saw the time. “We ought to eat, Tom, and get into some kind of shelter.”
“Yes, that’s so,” agreed Tom, who was as miserable as was his chum. “And if I’m not mistaken, we passed some sort of a cave back there. Let’s head for it.”
They came to a small cavern under an overhanging ledge of rock, and into this the two wanderers gratefully crawled. They did not explore to see how far back the cave extended, but when they found some dry wood near the entrance they built a fire and took off some of their wet garments. As these were hung on sticks near the blaze, to dry out, the young men, sitting near the grateful heat, took out their packages of food.
Luckily, they had wrapped the victuals in waxed paper taken from some of the cracker boxes supplied them for their first meal by their captors. So that now the improvised lunch was fairly dry. It was rather limited in its bill of fare, however, and Tom and Ned would gladly have parted with all the spare change in their pockets for a cup of hot coffee. However, such a luxury was beyond their reach, so they made the best of what they had.
The rain kept up all that afternoon, and once the two were warm from their cave fire and their garments fairly dry, they decided against venturing out again into the downpour.
“It may stop by morning,” Tom suggested, “and by morning more boats will be out and we’ll have a better chance of signaling one.”
“What! Stay here all night?”
“Why not?” chuckled Tom. “Do you know a better place?”
“You win!” agreed Ned. “We’ll camp out here.”
This they did, gathering some dried leaves farther back in the cave, and in these they burrowed, finding the warmth grateful from the chill of the storm.
It was still raining in the morning, but not as hard as before, when Tom and Ned awakened and made a very light breakfast. Then, when they were able to catch a glimpse of the sun, which came out about an hour after they had finished their limited meal, they again made a trail toward the shore farthest removed from the dock to which the scoundrels had tied up.
They soon came out on a sandy beach and into the full glare of a hot sun after the storm. The cheering beams of Old Sol both warmed and invigorated them.
“Now if we can only see a boat we’ll be all right,” said Tom.
They did not have long to wait. A motor craft came chugging into view and by dint of shouts and the waving of Ned’s shirt, which that young man gladly stripped off as a signal flag, the man in the boat saw the castaways and headed in toward them. The boatman proved to be Gill Marsh, a fisherman for whom Tom had more than once done favors, and Mr. Marsh gladly agreed to take the young men to Shopton.
“Though what you were doin’ on Rattlesnake Island is more’n I can figger out,” said the mystified Mr. Marsh.
“We’re not very good at figuring, ourselves, this morning,” said Tom, with a glance at Ned. They saw no reason for telling what had happened until they had had a chance to capture the scoundrels, for to attempt this they were determined.
In a short time they were landed at a dock not far from the Swift shops, and Tom was soon in telephonic communication with Mr. Jackson, who was both surprised and delighted to hear from his missing employer.
“Ned’s safe, too!” Tom said. “Get word to his folks as soon as you can.”
“That’s what I’ll do, Mr. Swift!” said the shop superintendent. “But where have you been? We’ve had the police for miles around looking for you two. What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later,” Tom said. “But how are things at the shop?”
“Well, we’ve had some trouble, and that fellow Greenbaum——”
But there, to Tom’s disgust, the connection was broken, nor, do what he would to attract the operator, could he restore it again.
“We’ve got to hurry back, Ned!” exclaimed the young inventor. “Those scoundrels are still at their tricks!”
Morethan ever anxious, as much by what Mr. Jackson had left unsaid as by what had come to him over the wire before the interruption, Tom Swift hailed a taxicab and in it rode to his home, stopping, since it was on his way, to let Ned Newton off at the latter’s home.
“Don’t talk too much—outside your own family circle—of what happened, Ned,” was the warning Tom gave his chum as they parted.
“I won’t. But you aren’t going to let the matter drop here, are you?”
“I should say not! But I want to swoop down on those fellows before they know it.”
Tom found his father excited by the sudden news over his son’s safety, but it was a joyous reaction after the dismal news brought back by Mr. Damon and Koku, following the episode of the motorboat chase.
“What happened after I left you?” Tom asked Mr. Damon, who had been pretty constantly at the Swift home following the kidnapping of the young inventor and his manager.
“After youleftus?” repeated the eccentric man somewhat dazedly. “You mean——?”
“I mean after I fell overboard,” said Tom, with a smile.
“Oh, yes. Well, neither Koku nor I knew how to manage theGull, and your friend Bill Tagg wasn’t any better off, bless my rudder!” said Mr. Damon. “So we just let her run, and she slued around so much and acted so queerly after you were taken aboard the other boat that some fellows in a sailboat came to our aid. We told them what had happened—without going too much into your private affairs, Tom—and one of the men got aboard theGulland brought us back to the dock where we started from. Then I hurried here to tell your father.”
“Then I got in touch with the police,” said Mr. Swift, taking up the story, “for I guessed that those aboard that other boat were your enemies, Tom. But the police didn’t know where to look. So what with you gone and nothing heard of Ned, we were in a great stew.”
“I can imagine it,” Tom said. “Of course you had no way of really knowing Ned was aboard the other boat, though I suppose from what happened and the sight of the bound figure in the bottom of theTurtle, you might have guessed Ned was aboard.”
“I surmised it,” assented Mr. Damon. “But we had no idea where they were taking you.”
“No, you couldn’t know that,” said Tom. “Well, we got away from the scoundrels, and the next thing is to catch them.”
Having given his father and Mr. Damon a hasty description of what had happened to him and Ned, Tom Swift set about the work of running down the miscreants.
The police were notified of the return of the young inventor, and a squad of officers was sent to Rattlesnake Island. Tom did not go, for he felt the need of rest. Besides, there were things at home which needed his attention.
“What was it you started to tell me when we were cut off, Mr. Jackson?” Tom asked his superintendent after the police had departed for the island.
“You mean about Greenbaum?”
“Yes. Is he still here?”
“Well, he is, Mr. Swift; and I hope I’m not going against your wishes when I say I wish he wasn’t.”
“Not at all, Mr. Jackson. I have no desire to keep that man if he isn’t doing what is right, though I must admit that he is a good workman.”
“I agree with you there. But after what happened you must use your own judgment about keeping him on.”
“What happened?”
“Well, he and I quarreled.”
“What did Greenbaum do?” Tom asked. He knew he need not ask what his superintendent had done, for Garret Jackson was thoroughly dependable.
“I found him sneaking around your private room, Tom—the room where you have been doing those experiments of late. I don’t know what they are and I don’t want to know until the right time comes. But I felt pretty sure you didn’t want Greenbaum to be prying in there.”
“No more I do!”
“That’s what I thought. So when I saw him come out of that room the second time, after you had gone to find Ned, I called him to account for it.”
“What did he say?”
“That you told him to go in there to experiment.”
“That was untrue!” cried Tom.
“So I guessed. So I took the liberty of putting a new lock on the place—a lock that fellow couldn’t pick if he wanted to, and he came at me hot and heavy. We had a quarrel, and I’m glad you’re here to settle it.”
“And I’ll settle it mighty quick!” exclaimed Tom. He was in his private office now, in a part of the shop somewhat removed from his secret experimental laboratory. Pushing a button that summoned a messenger, Tom bade the boy send Greenbaum in. And when the man sauntered in, smiling and seeming very confident of himself, the young inventor said:
“Get your time from the cashier and pack your things.”
“What for?” demanded Greenbaum, with a quick change of countenance.
“Because you’re through here.”
“Through, Mr. Swift! Why, you gave me a contract and you can’t fire me off-hand this way without telling me why! It isn’t fair!”
“It’s fair enough, and you know it!” declared Tom. “The only contract you had was that I said I’d keep you as long as your work was satisfactory. Well, it isn’t. It’s far from satisfactory.”
“You mean on that magnetic gear shift? I can show you, Mr. Swift, that——”
“No, it isn’t the gear shift. I’m going to drop that. It’s your own private work of trying to sneak in and fathom my secrets. That’s all. You are through. Get your time and clear out! Mr. Jackson was right in his surmise.”
“Oh, so Jackson has been talking about me, has he?”
“I’m not answering any of your questions,” retorted Tom. “The sooner you leave the premises the better. And don’t come back!”
For a moment Greenbaum stood looking squarely at Tom Swift whose eyes never faltered under the gaze of the angry man. Then Greenbaum asked with great deliberation:
“Is that your last word, Mr. Swift?”
“Yes.”
“Well, all I’ve got to say is that maybe you’ll be sorry for this some day! Maybe you’ll be sorry!”
There was a distinct threat in Greenbaum’s words.
“What do you mean?” cried Tom in anger starting from his chair. “How dare you threaten me?”
Greenbaum made no answer, but turned and went out of the office. Tom was about to follow, for he did not want the fellow to think he could thus defy him, when the telephone on the desk rang out sharply.
“Hello!Hello!” the young inventor called into the transmitter. “What is it?”
He did not recognize the voice at first, but the speaker soon identified himself as Joe Corrigan, the officer in charge of the squad of men who had gone to Rattlesnake Island in an endeavor to apprehend the three men.
“But they had flew the coop, Mr. Swift,” reported Joe Corrigan. “Not hide nor hair of ’em on the place.”
“Did you find the house?”
“Oh, sure! And we saw where you and Mr. Newton broke out. But the men must have skipped right after they found you had got away.”
“I suppose so. What about their boat?”
“No trace of that, either. I’m sorry we didn’t get ’em!”
“I hardly thought you would—it was just a chance,” Tom retorted.
“But we’re not going to give up,” declared Corrigan. “We’ll catch ’em yet!”
Tom had his doubts on this subject, but he did not express them.
“Wish you lots of luck!” he called over the wire.
He was sure, however, that Snogg, Janner and Torpy were but the tools in the hands of more powerful men, men who would keep themselves well hidden, and that though the ruffians might be apprehended in time, little or nothing would be learned from them. They would take the blame and say nothing of the men who had hired them, probably being well paid for any punishment they might suffer.
“Well, so much for that,” said Tom when he had ruminated over what Corrigan had reported. “Now about Greenbaum. That’s more serious. I can’t let him get away with threatening me like that.”
However, when Tom hurried out to intercept Greenbaum he found that the fellow had packed his belongings and hurried away.
“That was quick work,” reflected Tom. Then, as he thought the matter over, he was pretty sure that Greenbaum had anticipated what was coming to him and had accordingly made his arrangements for a speedy departure. “I only hope he didn’t get into the laboratory to do more damage to my talking-picture machine before he lighted out.”
He was reassured, however, when he found Koku on guard at the door of the laboratory which still needed a bit of work to restore it to the spick-and-span condition it was in before the explosion.
“Did anybody try to get in here just now, Koku?” asked Tom, thinking the giant might have prevented Greenbaum from a last and dangerous call.
“Nobody come right away,” the giant reported. “But yesterday him try come in and Mr. Jackson say I to stay here. So Koku stay.”
“That’s the idea!” exclaimed Tom approvingly. “Don’t let any one in here except my father, Ned Newton or me—not even Mr. Jackson for a while. Those scoundrels might get hold of my superintendent and try to torture something out of him if they thought he knew,” Tom said to himself. “It’s best to keep the secret among as few as possible until I’m ready to spring it. I want you to guard this place well, Koku,” went on Tom. “Especially at night.”
“Me guard!” grunted the giant. “Nobody git past without me punch him—but no punch you, Master, nor Mr. Ned.”
“No, please don’t punch us, or my father,” begged Tom, with a smile. Well he knew the weight of that mighty fist.
Thinking it not worth while to follow the man, Tom posted a notice to the effect that Greenbaum had been discharged and gave orders that he was not again to be admitted to the works on any pretext.
For the last few years the Swift plant had been surrounded by a high and strong fence, which was further defended against marauders by electrically charged wires. These wires did not carry a high enough current, under ordinary circumstances, to cause death, but the shock they could administer to unauthorized persons seeking to gain admittance was severe enough to deter them.
Having seen to the safety of the plant in general, Tom, after telephoning to Ned the result of the police visit to Rattlesnake Island, began to prepare for the resumption of work on his talking-picture apparatus. It was not long before the destroyed parts had been remade and he was about ready to start experimenting again.
“Well, Ned,” said Tom to his helper one day about two weeks after their strenuous experiences, “are you ready to be an actor again?”
“You mean in the song and dance line—trying to make my voice and image come through solid walls?”
“That’s the idea. I have my machine set up again after the explosion, and I think I’m nearer the solution than ever before. I’ve made a lot of changes. In a way, the fire and blast didn’t mean such a total loss, after all. It helped put me on a new track.”
“That’s good. Well, I’m ready for you as soon as I get this statement off to the bank. What’s the idea, Tom, borrowing so much money on notes?”
“Got to have it, Ned,” and the young inventor seemed a bit put out by the question.
“Is it for this new invention?”
“Yes.”
“Well, why not sell some of your securities? Money is high now, and to borrow it I’ve got to make statements to the bank that disclose a lot of your private dealings. Of course, they’re in safe hands, but——”
“Go ahead and get the money, Ned. We’ll need all that and more. I’ve sunk a lot in this invention, but I’ll get it all back again, and more too. No use spoiling the ship for a pennyworth of tar, you know.”
“Yes, I know, Tom. And if you’re sure you’re on the right track——”
“I’m never sure of anything in this world, Ned. But I know one thing, if I don’t pull out of this a winner, the banks will be asking a lot more questions than they have.”
“As bad as that?” asked Ned, struck by his friend’s serious manner.
“As bad—or as good. It depends on how you look at it. But I’ll leave the finances to you. I’m going to try out some new ideas now as soon as you can get into the broadcasting room.”
Tom called the room where Ned did his acting under the battery of electric lights his “broadcasting studio.” In a measure this was what it was, for vocal sounds and instrumental music were broadcast from it in the manner familiar to all who own a radio set.
But what Tom was trying to do, and which he found not at all easy, was to broadcast the sight of Ned and the song, making sight and sound synchronized. He wanted to perfect a radio receiver with an added apparatus by which, on a screen attached to the sounding cabinet, a person could view the person or persons doing the singing, dancing, or whatever form of activity was being presented.
This of course was not to be confounded with some moving and “talking” pictures, which are a combination of films and phonograph records, working simultaneously. By Tom’s machine, when perfected, one would be enabled to see and hear an actual theater play, a complete vaudeville show, or even a complete operatic performance.
When Ned finished his financial work he went to the studio and there he remained until far into the night while Tom, in his laboratory, watched the metallic glass screen and changed and adjusted switches, eliminators, tubes and different forms of electrical currents, endeavoring to capture not only Ned’s voice but his image.
“Well, how did it go, Tom?” asked Ned, coming to the laboratory after a bell signal told him work for the night was over.
“Somewhat better, I’m glad to say. I could see you much more plainly. Your voice was very clear. It’s only the vision apparatus that needs improving. How did you make out?”
“Oh, I don’t mind it. But why did you send some one to look through the windows at me?”
“Look through the windows at you?” exclaimed Tom. “I didn’t! You must be dreaming!”
“Indeed, I’m not. Two or three times, while I was singing and dancing, I saw faces peering in at me. I thought you had some men checking up.”
“No, indeed!” cried Tom. “Ned, I believe the spies are at work again!”
This seemed very possible when the two compared notes. Though Koku on guard outside the laboratory had reported no suspicious persons around, this much could not be said of the room where Ned performed.
“We’ll guard that, too!” decided Tom, and the next time when a “show” was put on, Eradicate was on duty to see that no one approached the windows.
Who the unbidden spectators could have been Tom had no idea, but he guessed they were emissaries from the men seeking to discover his secret.
As the days went on Tom Swift became more and more convinced that he was being closely watched by men who had a vital reason for discovering his secret. That these men were those interested in moving pictures and theatrical shows was certain. Tom realized what it would mean if their form of entertainment could be presented in even the humblest home in connection with the broadcasting of music, once his invention was successful.
It was one night when Ned had been performing a long time and when the results were not as satisfactory as at first that Tom, sinking wearily back in his chair and wondering what was wrong, heard a commotion in the corridor outside his private laboratory.
“No go in! No go in!” Koku’s big voice boomed.
“Nonsense! Of course I’m going in!” another voice responded. “Bless my toothbrush, but I want to see Tom.”
“Come on in, Mr. Damon!” called out the young inventor, as a new and daring idea came to him. “It’s all right, Koku,” he went on to the giant. “Let Mr. Damon in. Look here,” said Tom, addressing his eccentric friend, “can you sing and dance?”
“Why—bless—well, I don’t know, Tom. I used to,” and Mr. Damon chuckled. “I once was given to taking part in amateur minstrels. But is this a joke or a serious question?”
“It’s serious business. Just as you came along I happened to think that perhaps what I need at the visual sending end is a contrast of color. That might solve the problem, the difference in light rays—red at one end of the spectrum and violet at the other. It’s worth trying. But I need two performers. Ned’s in there now. He has on a violet suit—regular clown’s outfit. Will you put on a red one and help?”
“I’ll do anything, Tom, but eat onions. I hate ’em! Never could touch the things. So outside of that I’m at your service. I just stopped in casually on my way home and——”
“You’re just in time!” interrupted Tom. “This thing is giving me the dingbats, or it will if I don’t solve it soon. Come on, I’ll have to pass you in, for Eradicate is on guard.”
Ned, who was resting after his singing and dancing, attired in a violet-colored suit, as Tom had said, welcomed Mr. Damon. Tom quickly explained his new plan, and when Koku and Eradicate had made sure no interlopers were around, the new experiments were begun.
“But what’s it all about?” asked Mr. Damon as, in his red suit, he joined Ned in the song and dance. It may be said, in passing, that Mr. Damon was much funnier than he suspected. In spite of his anxiety over the outcome, Tom could not help chuckling as he watched the little rehearsal before going back to his laboratory.
“That’ll do excellently,” he said, as he observed his eccentric friend shuffle about the improvised stage. “Keep it up now, and I’ll see how it comes through.”
Under the glare of the powerful lights in the broadcasting studio, Mr. Damon and Ned danced and sang while with an anxious heart Tom Swift hurried back to the laboratory to see if the faint image on the metallic glass screen was any brighter.
Theyoung inventor, hastening along the corridor between his broadcasting studio and the laboratory where the new machine was set up, passed the giant Koku who sat on a stool not far from Tom’s door. Here the big man had taken his place each night while the testing was going on. With him on guard, Tom felt secure against intrusion by any of the plotters.
“Getting tired, Koku?” asked Tom, pausing on the threshold of his laboratory. “It isn’t much fun for you to be sitting there.”
“Not much tired. Master,” was the reply, “But Koku like do something—smash somebody—fight. No fun sit here nodding do.”
“No, it isn’t much fun doing nothing, I’ll admit,” said Tom. “And if it ever comes to a fight, Koku, you shall have a share in it. But it looks now as though the rascals would leave us alone. It won’t be much longer now, I think, I’m on the verge of success.”
“That good,” Koku answered. He did not, perhaps, understand all Tom had said, but he had been associated with the young inventor long enough to know when Tom spoke of success that it meant pleasure for the “Master.” For this Koku was glad. “Maybe you make new airship go back Koku’s country?” the giant asked.
“No, this isn’t an airship I’m working on now,” Tom said, knowing it would be of no use to explain to the simple mind of the giant what the invention really was. “But would you like to go back to your own land of giants, Koku?”
“Sometimes Koku think maybe he like to go,” was the slow answer. “But Koku like it here, too. Sometimes get hungry for fash,” and he named a peculiar fruit that the giants of his land were especially fond of. Tom and Ned, on their voyage which had resulted in the capture of Koku, had seen how passionately eager the big men were for this fruit. They would go to almost any length to get it. And Tom had an idea how Koku must long for some now and then in a land where no fash was to be had. It Was a species of melon with a peculiar taste and odor. Neither Tom nor Ned had any liking for fash, but the giants seemed to thrive upon it.
“Some day, Koku,” the young inventor half promised as he stepped into his laboratory to start anew the test, this time under different circumstances, “I may take another airship trip to your country and let you have all the fash you want.”
“By golly, Master, that be good time for me!” cried the giant with a happy laugh.
As Tom walked over to the apparatus by which he hoped to produce such startling results, the telephone bell on the instrument that connected the laboratory with the broadcasting studio rang hard.
“Hello! What’s the matter?” Tom asked, over the wire.
“How long do you want us to keep at this thing?” asked the laughing voice of Ned Newton. “I—oh, dear—whew—I can’t stand this much longer, Tom!” and he went off into another fit of merriment.
“Why, what’s the matter?” asked the wondering inventor.
“Oh, it’s my partner in the red suit!” chuckled Ned. “He’s cutting up such funny antics that I can’t dance or sing for laughing. How is it coming through?”
“I haven’t connected up yet,” Tom answered. “I will in a minute. I was talking to Koku. He’s hungry for fash.”
“For fash!” exclaimed Ned wonderingly.
“Yes. Don’t you remember those peculiar melons that had such a funny smell and taste? The giants were crazy about them.”
“Oh, yes,” Ned answered. “I’d forgotten all about them. But get on with the show. I happen to have a date with Helen to-night.”
“I’ll soon release you,” promised Tom. “So Mr. Damon is cutting loose, is he?”
“You ought to see him!” chuckled the other performer, and even then Tom caught, over the telephone, snatches of comic songs Mr. Damon was practicing—recollections of his amateur minstrel days.
“All right—get set!” advised the inventor. “I’m going to turn on the power now. Keep toward the middle of the stage, for I haven’t got a very wide screen and the focus is narrow. If you get too far to either side I may lose the image and can’t tell whether I’m getting you or not.”
“Sure!” was the succinct answer of Ned. Then Tom made the adjustments, turned on the power, and waited.
A moment later there came from his loud speaker the tones of Ned and Mr. Damon singing a selection from one of the latest comic operas. The musical accompaniment came from an electrical piano in the studio.
“That’s the best and clearest broadcasting I’ve gotten yet!” said Tom, with satisfaction.
“But that’s the easiest part of it. Now will the images of the performers come on the screen clearly? That’s the decisive test.”
Anxiously, he turned the switch that controlled the projection of moving objects. There was a hissing sound, a slight humming, and then a soft glow illuminated the metallic glass screen in front of Tom Swift. It suffused to a milky whiteness and then, as upon the silver screen in a moving picture theater, but in miniature size, there was projected before Tom’s eyes the figures of Ned and Mr. Damon going through the movements of an eccentric dance as they sang.
For a moment Tom wanted to shout in delight, for, perhaps due to the fact that the performers wore contrasting garments of red and violet, the images projected were clearer than any Tom had yet succeeded in getting through by means of his new wireless apparatus.
“I believe I’ve struck it!” he whispered.
Then he began to laugh, for Mr. Damon certainly was funny. He even seemed to know that Tom, in a distant room, could see him, for the odd man winked one eye and made gestures at Tom as though the young inventor were personally before him.
“Ha! Ha!” chuckled Tom. “I must get dad in to see this. He’ll believe in it now.” For, up to this time, Mr. Swift had been rather skeptical, though he was fully in sympathy with Tom’s aims. “And I’d like to show it to Mary,” mused the young inventor, as he sat there enjoying what really was a team vaudeville sketch without either of the artists being in the room with him. Their song, the music, and even the shuffling of their feet came plainly to him through the loud speaker, while the image was shimmering on the metallic glass screen almost as plainly as though Tom had been in the studio. Of course the image was in reduced size. The screen was about three feet square, and life-sized figures cannot be shown on that.
“But in time I can get them full size,” Tom decided. “Oh, but this is good! I can see success now, though it still must be a little clearer to make it a positive thing and in natural colors.”
Then he bethought him that Ned and Mr. Damon must be tired, for they had been keeping steadily at it for nearly an hour while Tom tried different combinations of lights and currents of various intensities in order to get the best effects.
“Guess I’ll ’phone them that they can let up now,” decided the young inventor. “They must be tired. And Ned wants to go see Helen. By the same token I’d better give Mary a call, I guess. I’ve been rather neglecting her of late—too busy over this invention.”
Then another thought came to Tom—that he would have the girls and perhaps their parents come to the studio to take a look at the result he had accomplished. True, it was not yet perfected; but he knew his friends would keep his secret until he could complete the patent applications.
“Yes, I’ll give the girls a show,” decided Tom. “They sure will enjoy Mr. Damon’s singing and dancing. Gosh, but he’s funny!”
Tom shut off the power. The image faded from the screen which turned from milky whiteness to the blackness of pitch. Then the voices of the performers died away as Tom cut off the radio.
He was about to step to the telephone to advise his friends of his almost complete success and to tell them to cease their efforts when a noise out in the corridor attracted his attention.
“Maybe they’ve decided to quit of their own accord,” mused Tom.
He opened the door of his laboratory and stepped into the hall. He saw nothing of Ned or Mr. Damon approaching and at once became aware of a peculiar odor. At first he could not account for it, thinking, for a moment, that his father might be at work in the chemical laboratory farther down the corridor. But after a second deep breath Tom knew it was no chemical he smelled.
“It—it’s—fash!” he murmured. “The peculiar melon fruit that Koku was wishing for. But how in the world could that smell get here? There isn’t any fash within hundreds of miles—yes, even thousands! How Koku could get any——”
He paused. There was a dark object on the floor near where the giant had been sitting on guard. Tom switched on a brilliant overhead light. It illuminated the place where Koku had been sitting, but the giant was no longer in his chair. He was sprawled on the floor, an inert lump of flesh, while, not far from him, was one of those peculiar melons, or fash fruits, of which the giants of that far-off, strange land were so fond.
“Can I be dreaming?” gasped Tom. “How did this happen? Koku must be drugged! How did he get that fash? And what does it all mean?”
As he started forward a noise behind him attracted his attention.
Likean electrical flash it came into the mind of Tom Swift that there was something wrong here—something terribly and dangerously wrong. The drugged giant—nothing less than a drug could account for the helplessness of Koku—the appearance of that strange fruit, the noise behind—all these were warnings not to be ignored.
So, though his first impulse was to hasten to the aid of the giant, when he heard that noise back of him Tom turned.
He was only just in time. He had a glimpse of a figure gliding toward him out of the shadows, for that part of the corridor was not brightly lighted. And the figure was that of the man lately discharged—Greenbaum!
With uplifted hand, in which was some sort of a weapon Tom could not distinguish, Greenbaum glided toward him. Tom was taken so by surprise and was so off his guard because of what had happened to Koku that he might have fallen a victim to Greenbaum.
But at that moment occurred an interruption and a diversion that saved the situation, and perhaps Tom’s life. The door farther down the corridor opened and Mr. Damon and Ned, preceded by Eradicate, who had been serving as guard there, came out. The two performers, receiving no answer to their telephonic signal, had rightly concluded that Tom had finished experimenting for the night.
“At the same time I thought something might be wrong when you didn’t answer,” Ned explained later.
At any rate, the two performers and Eradicate were now hastening toward the young inventor. In a trice they realized that Tom was about to be attacked. But before the knife in Greenbaum’s hand could descend, the man received some missile full in the face with such crashing force that he staggered back. He dropped the knife, and with a cry of pain darted away, being lost to sight in the shadows of the hall.
“Good shot!” cried Ned.
“Bless my rubber boot, Eradicate hit the scoundrel with a shoe!” exclaimed Mr. Damon.
“Dat’s whut I done!” chuckled the negro. “I didn’t have nothin’ else, so I tuck off mah shoe!”
Eradicate had big feet and wore heavy brogans, so the hobnailed sole and heel made as effective a weapon for the purpose as could be desired.
Recovering from the astonishment into which the unexpected attempt on his life had thrown him, Tom Swift turned about and darted into the lower part of the hall in pursuit of Greenbaum. But he was too late. The slight start which the man had, served him in good stead and he made his escape. Though Tom sounded the alarm and got many of his night watchmen on the job, they could not capture the intruder.
Not until it was made certain that he was no longer on the premises did Tom turn his attention to Koku. Eradicate, however, had begun to minister to his fellow guard. Though there was jealousy between the two because each one desired to serve Tom alone, when one was in trouble the other always showed a friendly spirit.
“Somebody done chlo’fo’m him!” was Eradicate’s opinion, when Tom and Ned came back from the unsuccessful chase after Greenbaum, to find the giant just recovering consciousness. There was a dazed look on his face, but his eyes opened wider as he saw the fash melon on the floor near where he had fallen from his chair.
“Koku no dream then,” he murmured.
“What happened?” asked Tom, when he had sent several men to find out, if possible, how Greenbaum had eluded the guard and the electrically charged fence and so had gained entrance to the private laboratory.
Then the giant, whose immense bulk was proof against any ordinary means of making him unconscious, told what had taken place. He had been sitting in his chair on guard near Tom’s door after the little talk he had with the young inventor about his desire to have a fash melon once more. Then, as Koku explained it, a little later, there came rolling along the corridor toward his chair one of the very same fruits for which he had such a longing.
In a transport of joy at the sight and smell of the dainty, not stopping to consider how strange it was that the fruit should have appeared at such an opportune time, Koku stooped to pick it up. But he never got his hands on it, so he said, for a moment later he “went to sleep,” as he expressed it.
“You were drugged,” declared Tom. “Whoever rolled that fash in to attract your attention and keep you from being suspicious, whoever did that, must have sprayed some chloroform or ether up your nose. You went down and out.”
“Maybe so, Master,” admitted the giant humbly. “Koku very sorry.”
“Greenbaum brought it,” declared Tom. “He wanted to get Koku out of the way and then he thought he’d get me. Guess he didn’t count on Ned and Mr. Damon being so near.”
“He didn’t figure on Eradicate’s shoe, either,” chuckled Mr. Damon. “Bless my trolley fare, but that was a good shot!”
“But look here,” persisted Ned. “It’s all right enough for you to say that Greenbaum brought that fash here to tempt Koku. So much is evident and plain. What isn’t plain is how Greenbaum knew about the fash and where he got it. That’s what puzzles me.”
“It’s a small problem compared to the others we have to solve,” said Tom, with a serious look on his face. “What worries me is how Greenbaum passed the guard lines. It also worries me to know that the men who seem bent on preventing me from completing this invention are still on my trail.”
“Those are greater problems,” agreed Ned. “Very likely we are wrong in thinking these peculiar melons grow only in Koku’s country. This may have come from South America or Africa in a shipment of fruit. You know we get pears, or maybe it’s peaches I’m thinking of—anyhow, it’s something, from Australia. And if they can ship things that far, it wouldn’t be impossible to bring fash from where we got Koku. Only what puzzles me is how anybody knew of these melons.”
“We’ll consider that later,” suggested Tom. “But it occurs to me that the moving picture people have of late been sending men into all sorts of strange countries for travel news. It is entirely within the bounds of reason to suppose that some of them have penetrated to the land where Koku came from and where the fash grows. Some exploring movie men may have brought a few of the melons back with him. You know Koku said they keep an astonishingly long time.”
“Yes,” agreed Ned. “But that one won’t keep long,” he added, with a chuckle, for the giant was already opening his big pocket knife preparatory to cutting the melon.
“Not in here, Koku, if you please,” said Tom, motioning to the giant to go outside to cut the fruit.
It had a disagreeable odor when whole, but the aroma was tripled when the fash was cut. Koku had speedily recovered from the effects of the drug and was preparing for a feast. If Tom had been a few minutes later in opening his door, the giant might have been dead and the young inventor himself would have been in grave danger.
“Well, let Koku enjoy his fash,” Tom said as the big man went out into the night with his treasure, having first, however, offered to share it with his master. The offer was politely turned down. “We’ve got to investigate what happened.”
They could not find out how Greenbaum got in, and Tom began to fear there was still another spy in his working force. He resolved to have a strict inquiry next morning and made a note to charge Mr. Jackson with this.
“But how did the talking-picture work, Tom?” asked Ned when they were ready to close the laboratory and disperse for the night.
“Fine! Almost perfect! I’m on the verge of success!”
“That’s why those plotters are getting desperate, I guess,” suggested the manager. “They’re out to do you, Tom. Better clean this thing up and sell it. Then they’ll let you alone.”
“I’m thinking of that. But I want to make one more demonstration and have Mary, Helen, and some of their folks see it. There are one or two little improvements that occur to me that can be made, and then I’ll be ready for a final showing before I get my last patents. After that I’ll be ready to market my invention.”
“Going to give a sort of dress rehearsal?” asked Ned, with a smile.
“That’s it.”
A search next morning revealed little more than had been found out the night before. Nor was the strict inquiry the superintendent conducted fruitful of results. No spies were uncovered among Tom’s factory forces.
But, omitting no precautions, the young inventor took even greater pains to insure privacy in his personal laboratory. There he worked hard to perfect his invention, taking hardly any sleep for a week, so that he was almost exhausted. His father and Ned helped and so did Mr. Damon. Koku and Eradicate were kept on guard, and the giant, having satisfied his longing for fash, declared that he would not move from his chair again to pick up a dozen of the odorous melons.
And, laboring hard, Tom brought to what he thought would be perfection his newest invention. Mr. Swift was greatly interested in it, though he begged his son to proceed cautiously.
“You evidently have powerful enemies, Tom,” said the aged man. “They must think you will ruin part of their business in moving pictures and theatrical performances and that is why they are so anxious to get you out of the way. Be careful!”
“I will,” promised the young man. “But they can’t stop me now. Success is just across the line.”
He had entirely rebuilt the machine after the fire and blast, and it was larger and better than ever. Mary and Helen, with their families, had been taken into Tom’s confidence and he had promised them that they should see and hear the performance of Ned and Mr. Damon.
“It’s quite thrilling!” said Mary, with a fond look at Tom.
“I hope you’ll say so after the demonstration,” was his answer. “I may ask you and Helen to perform, also.”
“Oh, we’ll be glad to,” said Helen. “I can’t let Ned get away with all the honors.”
It was the day on which the final demonstration was to take place. Tom had arranged his apparatus and had invited the two girls and their families to come to the laboratory for the evening.
In the afternoon, about six hours before the time set, Tom was in his workroom putting some finishing touches to the machinery and testing the electrical wires when he heard Eradicate coming along the corridor. Something in the colored man’s step and the fact that he was muttering excitedly to himself, roused Tom’s curiosity and fears.
“What’s the matter, Rad?” he asked, opening the door in response to the faithful black man’s knock.
“Man jest give me dis,” answered Eradicate, holding out a letter.
“Where did you get it?”
“Out in de yard,” was the answer. “I was walkin’ round like yo’ done tole me watchin’ fo’ strangers, when de man come up an’ handed me dis. He were a stranger—I was goin’ to tell him to make his se’f skurse when he done hand me dat.”
Eradicate nodded toward the note which Tom held.
“Did he say anything when he gave it to you?” asked Tom.
“He say ‘gib dat to Tom Swift. It may be life or death to him,’ ” quoted Eradicate.
Tom hastily tore open the envelope. As he read the message a cry of rage and astonishment came to his lips.
“What’sthe matter?” asked Ned Newton. He had been making the broadcasting studio ready for the performance he and Mr. Damon would soon give in there, so Tom could show his assembled party of guests what the new invention would do. “What’s wrong, Tom?” he asked again, entering the laboratory just as his chum finished reading the sinister message that Eradicate had handed him.
“Wrong is the word,” murmured Tom, again reading the warning. “What do you think of that?” and he handed the paper to his financial manager.
Ned scanned the scrawl—it was only that—words hastily scribbled on a piece of wrapping paper and enclosed in a dirty envelope.
“Whew!” whistled Ned as he read. And this is what his eyes took in: