“Tom Swift: If you exhibit your new talking pictures your whole plant will be blown to atoms. Take warning in time.”
“Tom Swift: If you exhibit your new talking pictures your whole plant will be blown to atoms. Take warning in time.”
“There’s no name signed to it,” remarked Ned.
“There doesn’t need be,” responded his chum. “It’s easy to guess that this comes from the same crowd who kidnapped you and me—the same men who tried to blow me up. There’s no need for a name.”
“No, I guess you’re right,” Ned agreed. “Still, if we could trace these fellows——”
“Oh, I’m going to try!” exclaimed Tom. “I’m not going to sit idly down and let them think they have us scared. Eradicate, show me just where you met this man and tell me what he looked like.”
The negro did his best, but he was getting old and his memory was not what it had been. He gave a rather hazy description of the bearer of the sinister warning, but he was able to point out the place where he had come upon the intruder. Intruder was exactly what the messenger was, for, since beginning work on his latest invention, Tom had taken precautions to admit none but his own men to the plant.
“He met me heah,” said Eradicate pointing to a clump of bushes near the electrically charged fence. That is, it was electrically charged at night. During the day, when many watchmen were on the alert, Tom did not have the current turned on.
“But I’m going to have it on after this,” he decided, when a search of the grounds in the vicinity of the place where Eradicate had received the note revealed no one. “He must have gotten over the fence in some way, didn’t he, Rad?”
“I didn’t see him shinny ober de fence, no, Massa Tom.”
“Well, I think he must have come in that way. Where did he go after he left the note with you?”
“He jes’ disappeared, dat’s whut he done! He jes’ vanished like!”
“He must be a voodoo man,” suggested Ned jokingly.
Eradicate’s eyes grew round and his jaw dropped.
“No,” said Tom glancing warningly at Ned, “what I think happened was that when Rad was looking at the note and trying to adjust himself to the life or death twist the fellow gave to it, the scoundrel jumped back over the fence before Rad saw him.”
“He’d have to be a pretty good jumper to get over this fence,” Ned commented.
“Yes, but it could be done,” said Tom. “But from now on the electric current will be on duty twenty-four hours a day. I’ll put a stop to this nonsense!”
“What are you going to do?” asked Ned.
“Well, I’m going to take no chances, for one thing,” was the reply. “I don’t know whether this message is genuine or a hoax. But I can’t afford to take any chances. There are too many men in this plant to risk having even one of the smaller buildings blown up. If only my own laboratory were involved I wouldn’t think so much of it. Though of course a lot of damage could be done to my new invention now that it’s practically finished. However, we’ll have the most thorough investigation possible. I’ll shut down work for the rest of the day and turn the force into an investigating body.”
“I think it’s a wise thing to do,” agreed Ned.
A little later the big factory whistle sounded the signal of alarm. Men dropped their tools, shut down their machines, and gathered at the appointed places. It was as if, on a ship, the signal had been given for boat drill. Tom had organized his men this way to respond to the alarm in case of emergency.
In a short time several hundred indignant employees of the Swift Construction Company were listening to Tom tell of the latest outrage. He did not need to go into details of his secret invention which, until it was perfected, he would not give to the world. It was enough to state that enemies were trying to intimidate the head of the firm in an endeavor to steal some of the valuable secrets.
“There may be a spy and traitor among us,” declared Tom. “I doubt that. But there is some way for my enemies to gain entrance to the plant that I can’t discover. Now I want you to go over the place. Look for a secret means of entering. Look for hidden wires that may connect with planted mines. In short, go over the plant with a fine toothed comb and let me know what you find.”
“That’s what we’ll do, Mr. Swift!” came the reassuring chorus.
“And if we find any of the scoundrels we’ll string ’em up!” yelled one enthusiastic and indignant workman.
“No, don’t do anything rash or unlawful!” warned the young inventor. “Make any intruder you catch a prisoner and bring him to me.”
The men scattered to make a thorough search, and then Tom went into his private laboratory where his father and Ned had preceded him. He wanted to talk the situation over with them.
“What do you think, Dad?” asked Tom, when he had related to his parent the latest attempt.
“Well,” was the careful answer, “to me it looks like a deep-laid plot against you. They don’t want you to put these talking pictures on the market.”
“But how is it their business?” asked Ned. “I mean the business of whoever is doing these tricks.”
“It concerns them vitally,” replied Mr. Swift. “Why, just think what it would mean if a whole theatrical performance could be thrown on the screen in private homes!”
“That’s what I’m going to make possible!” declared the young inventor. “Those who buy my machine will not only hear but, on the screen attached to the apparatus, they will see the performers!”
“It may mean ruin to many regular theaters and moving picture houses, Tom,” warned Mr. Swift. “Those people have millions of dollars invested in their projects. They evidently mean business,” and he tapped the warning letter Eradicate had received.
“Yes, they mean business; but so do I!” cried Tom in a ringing voice. “The question is who means the most business. You don’t want me to quit, do you, Dad?”
“No, Tom, I can’t say I do. Yet I want you to be careful.”
“What’s your idea, Ned? Should I knuckle under to these scoundrels and tell them I’ll throw overboard the machine I’ve been working on so hard for the last year? Shall I admit I’m beaten?”
For a moment Ned Newton did not answer. Then something of Tom’s ringing spirit was communicated and, banging his fist on the table with such force that he knocked over a rack of test tubes, the manager cried:
“No, Tom! We’ll fight ’em to a finish!”
“I thought you’d say that,” was Tom’s quiet comment.
“And you can count on me,” said Mr. Swift, “though I’m not much good when it comes to a fight.”
“Oh, I’ve got men enough to fight for me physically,” said Tom. “What I need is moral backing, and now that I have it I’m going ahead. I’ve been trying to fight this thing too much in the dark. From now on I’ll use not only my own men, but also the regular police force of Shopton. Ned, get the chief on the wire!”
In a short time a squad of police were on guard around Tom’s big plant, while, as the day drew to a close and the hour approached for the test demonstration, the regular workmen searched for anything that might give color to the threat to blow the place up.
Just when it seemed that nothing would be found, several of the men, under the leadership of Mr. Jackson, made a startling discovery.
They found where the big outside fence had been tunneled under and, working from there, came upon several mines that were planted near important buildings in a manner that would have done credit to a wartime mining party. From the mines buried wires led outside the fence to a little gully. There, beneath a clump of bushes, the ends of the wires lay. All that remained was to connect them to a detonating battery. Then the mines could all be set off at once and the Swift plant surely would be terribly damaged, if not wholly destroyed.
“They’re regular fiends!” gasped Ned, when the extent of the vile plot had been laid bare.
“Yes, they could easily have blown us up but for that warning,” Tom admitted. “Yet it may all have been a bluff. They might not have gone to extremes. But I dared not take a chance.”
“No,” agreed his chum. “Well, what’s the next move?”
Tom Swift did not answer immediately.
Tom Swiftwas profoundly disturbed by the momentous discoveries that had taken place around the Swift Construction Company’s plant. He did not believe it possible, with all his precautions, that so deep and dangerous a plot could have been brought so near to fruition as it had been.
“Well?” asked Ned remindingly.
“Oh!” and Tom appeared to come out of a disagreeable reverie. “Well, there are several things that must be done, Ned. In the first place we must take newer and better precautions to keep these rascals out.”
“That’s plain enough.”
“Then the next thing to do is to go ahead with this thing and push it to a conclusion.”
“You mean the talking-picture machine?”
“That’s it. After that we’ll consider what is next to be done. But you and Mr. Damon had better be getting ready,” and Tom smiled for the first time since Eradicate had given him the threatening note that proved to be such a timely warning.
“Ready for what?” Ned wanted to know.
“For the performance you are to give for the benefit of Mary, Helen, and the other visitors. They’ll be here soon. It’s getting late.”
“Do you mean, in the face of what happened, that you’re going to put on a program of songs and dances?” asked Ned, in astonishment.
“Why not?” Tom questioned. “Nothing really happened. There was no blowing up of the plant.”
“No, but it came mighty close to it. We don’t know what hour those fellows set for attaching the detonator to the ends of the wires, and then it would have been a skyrocket trip for us.”
“Yes, but itdidn’thappen,” insisted Tom, with another smile. “ ‘A miss is as good as a mile,’ you know. We’re safe and sound. We are well guarded now and I want to see if my machine will do what I hope it will.”
“Very well,” assented Ned, with a shake of his head. “On with the dance, let Mr. Damon and myself be unconfined. I’m game if you are, Tom.”
“Bless my dominoes, so am I!” added the odd man.
“There really is no danger now,” Tom insisted. “I’m not saying but what the scoundrels may try it again. But, for the time being, we are safe. It’s just as it is after a hard thunder storm,” he went on. “There’ll be no danger from the lightning for some time.”
“You may be right there,” agreed Ned. “Well, come on, Mr. Damon. We’ll do our part to make the entertainment a success.”
Shortly after this Mary Nestor and her parents arrived in answer to the invitation Tom had sent them, and they were followed soon by Helen Morton, whom Ned greeted with a warm smile.
“But what’s going on?” Mary wanted to know of Tom. “We were stopped two or three times on our way through your grounds and made to show the passes you sent us. What’s the cause? Is it war?”
“Something like that,” admitted Tom. “We’re having a little trouble with some men who don’t like what I’m doing. But I think the worst is over.”
Then, not telling what danger he and Ned had been in, Tom Swift gave his friends a brief description of the new talking-picture machine and prepared them for what they were going to see.
Mary, Helen and their parents took their seats in the laboratory with Mr. Swift and Tom, while Ned and Mr. Damon went to the broadcasting studio, there to don their red and violet robes. Tom had not yet succeeded in making it possible to render sharp and clear performers attired in garments of other colors or combination of colors, though he hoped, by the use of filter screens, to bring this about later.
Eradicate and another man were instructed to keep strict guard on all approaches to the broadcasting room while the performance was going on. Koku, armed with a big club, and another man with a gun were stationed outside the private laboratory. But Tom did not have Koku and the other guard stationed until Mary and the others were in the room, so the visitors did not see these warlike preparations.
The switches were turned, the wires hummed, the tubes glowed with their strange lights and the black screen became milky white. Then, as over the loud speaker, came the words of the song rendered by Ned and Mr. Damon in the distant room, there also appeared very plain images of the two performers. The transmission was the best Tom had ever succeeded in producing.
“Why, Tom, it’s wonderful!” exclaimed Mary.
“Marvelous!” echoed Helen.
“Finest thing I ever saw!” declared Mr. Nestor. “If you’re selling stock in this, Tom, put me down for a good subscription.”
“Same here!” added Mr. Morton. “It’s going to be epoch-making, Tom Swift.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of—it’s too epoch-making,” said Mr. Swift, but he did not explain what he meant nor did his visitors ask. They were too much interested in listening to and looking at Ned Newton and Mr. Damon.
Ned’s earlier description of the odd man’s performance was fully borne out by what happened. At one time Ned had to quit from sheer exhaustion in laughing, but Mr. Damon went on alone, singing, dancing, improvising, telling jokes and funny stories until he had his unseen audience in gales of laughter.
“Well, Tom, how was it?” asked Ned, when the performance was over and they were all together again.
“Very good! But it must be better yet. I don’t want to limit the performers to red and violet robes. But I have thought of a simple method of getting around that. Color filters, such as are used in printing photography, will do the trick. I’m not worried about that.”
The little laboratory was rather close and stuffy, so the door leading into the hall was opened for air. Mary looked out. She screamed, and turned quickly toward Tom.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom instantly. “Is there—” He thought Greenbaum might be trying some other trick.
“Why is Koku armed with that big club and the other man with a gun?” asked Mary suspiciously. “Is there some danger? Oh, Tom——”
The memory of the kidnapping of the two young men came vividly into her mind.
“There’s danger—terrible danger!” exclaimed Helen. “I can tell by the boys’ faces,” she added, looking from Tom and Ned to Mary. “They are trying to hide it from us; but there’s danger, and I know it.”
As Ned remarked later, “the beans were spilled then and there,” and though he and Tom tried to put the girls and their parents off, there was no denying that something unusual was afoot. The upshot of it was that the whole story of the buried mines came out.
“Tom, you’ve got to give this thing up!” urged Mary, taking him by the arm. “It’s a wonderful invention, undoubtedly, but it isn’t worth your life, nor Ned’s. You must give it up! Let those men have it to destroy if they want to.”
“Never!” cried Tom. “I’m going through with it.”
Then followed earnest but useless pleadings on the part of the young ladies and their parents. Seeing how firm Tom was, Helen and Mary turned their attention to Ned, seeking to get him to prevail upon his chum to cast the invention aside. But Ned was as firm as his friend.
“No, I’m going ahead with it no matter what comes!” was Tom’s final decision. “But I’m going to set a trap for these scoundrels and I think I’ll catch them. The talking-picture machine must be perfected, in spite of these fellows. But they’ll find two can play at the same game. I’m going to set a trap!”
Somewhat reassured by Tom’s confident manner, the girls and their parents felt better, though they could not shake off the fear that something would happen. Nor was Tom as easy in his mind as he seemed.
There were refreshments after the demonstration, which had been a success in spite of the excitement preceding it, and then Tom and Ned took the girls home, their parents having gone on ahead.
“Well, Tom,” remarked Ned when the two young men were on their way back to the laboratory to make sure it was carefully locked and guarded for the night, “I thought, once, that Mary was going to prevail on you to give it up.”
“Not in a hundred years! I’m going through with it. Why, I’ve got to or face ruin of another sort.”
“You mean financially?”
“Yes. You know how much money I’ve got tied up in this machine. It’s all we could beg or borrow or spare from my other ventures. If I scrapped it now, all that cash would be lost. As it is, if I go on and put the machine on the market, I stand a chance to get it back with a profit.”
“Yes, I suppose so. The banks have begun to ask questions. I guess it’s sink or swim from now on.”
“But we’re going toswim!” declared Tom Swift, with a confident smile. “Give me an even break, and I’ll beat those fellows at their own game!”
“I hope you do, Tom. But what sort of trap are you going to set?”
“Tell you in the morning. I want to sleep over it,” and with that Tom turned into the house.
“Well, they didn’t blow us up,” remarked Ned Newton to his chum the following morning after having awakened in the Swift home, having occupied the room next to his friend during the night.
“No, and I suppose we can be thankful for that,” agreed Tom. “But they might just as well have had a bomb under my bed for all the rest I got.”
“Didn’t you sleep well?” Ned wanted to know, though a look at his friend’s face was enough to tell the story. Tom’s eyes had dark half circles under them and it was plain that he had not rested enough.
“Hardly any,” was the answer. “This thing is getting on my nerves, Ned. I’ve got to do something!” and the voice was a bit irritable.
“Seems to me you’ve done a lot, Tom.”
“In what way?”
“Well, you’ve invented one of the most wonderful machines in the world—one that will make it possible for a man not only to sit at home in a comfortable chair and listen to the best music that’s played, but he can, by a turn of a switch, see theatrical plays. And, not only have you done that, but you’ve called the turn on the scoundrels who tried to stop you half way.”
“I haven’t quite called the turn, as you call it, Ned. There is still a lot to do to uncover the acts of those fellows. One of the first things I want to do is to find out how they got in and did their work so secretly. They must have had help from inside,” added Tom.
His first step was to set Ned at work on financial matters, to ascertain just how much longer the Swift Construction Company could operate without going to the wall. Its credit was excellent, which was a great deal in its favor. And Tom hoped soon to have his talking pictures in shape to offer some of the machines for sale, or at least to sell stock in a company that might market them to the retail trade. In this way he would be assured soon of a large amount of ready cash. He knew several firms who would be willing to underwrite an issue of bonds, once he could demonstrate that his machine was a success.
Having attended to these money matters, which were always more or less of a bore to Tom, the young inventor turned his attention to matters of more interest to him. One was to see that the delicate mechanism of his invention had not been disturbed during the night, and the other was to make a more careful examination with a view to finding out how his plant had been mined by the conspirators.
Koku and Eradicate had both slept in the private laboratory, and on Tom’s entrance they reported that nothing unusual had occurred during the night. It was the fear that, after all, something untoward might take place that had prompted Ned to spend the night with his chum.
“So far so good!” mused Tom, after he had made sure his invention was in working order. “Now for a look around the grounds.”
He soon saw what had been apparent at the casual inspection the night before, namely, that the plotters had tunneled under the fence in order to plant their bombs. Doubtless, they had found out to their sorrow that the wires on top of the barrier carried a disabling current of electricity.
And it was in that way that the gang had gained entrance to the grounds. They had worked in secret, by night it was likely, and had thus been able to plant several dangerous bombs and run wires attached to them outside the fence and into the little gully mentioned before. All that was needed was the exploding spark and the Swift plant would have been a mass of ruins.
The bombs had been carefully taken up and soaked in water. They were then—and this work was only now finished—dissected in an effort to learn some clue as to the constructors. But the work had been cunningly done. Tom suspected that the gang had hired some band of anarchists to make the bombs for them, probably keeping the makers in ignorance of what the deadly machines were to be used for.
Once the bombs were removed, the connecting wires pulled up and all traces of the work removed, Tom had some of his men arrange matters so that a recurrence of the danger was impossible. At intervals along the fence metal rods were driven into the earth and so arranged, by means of electric wires, that any disturbance of the earth near them would be registered on dials in the central watch tower.
“That will keep them out, or at least give warning of their attempts,” said Tom.
In truth, as the fence was still guarded on top by the powerful current and now was protected from beneath, there was little likelihood that any plotters could get in. Double guards were posted night and day at all entrance gates and not until then did Tom Swift feel secure.
He then set to work with redoubled energy to put the finishing touches to his newest patent and felt sure he had solved the one remaining problem—that of making visible all colors on his screen. This he accomplished by filters of glass, something after the manner in which colored moving pictures are taken, but using a process of his own that he had only recently discovered.
Though Tom was kept busy putting the finishing touches to his machine, he was not freed from trouble. Every now and then he would get a report from some of his many shops that the place had been entered and things turned upside down, evidently in a search for some of the young inventor’s secrets.
“Why don’t they lay off and let me alone?” exclaimed Tom angrily one morning after some particularly annoying damage had been done in his airship shop the night before. “What’s their game, anyhow?”
“To make you give up, I guess,” answered Ned. “They can’t get at your talking-picture machine, you’ve got that too well guarded. But to guard the rest of the plant you’d have to keep a full force here day and night, and that’s out of the question with our bank balance as low as it is.”
“I realize that, Ned. Yet I’ve got to do something desperate. It may take some money, too.”
“Oh, we aren’t down to our last dollar, when it comes to that,” Ned replied. “But it would be ruinous to be paying a night force as well as a day force, particularly when the former would only be used as guards.”
“I’m not going to do that,” declared Tom. “It’s time, I think, to put into operation my other scheme—the one I had in mind the night we discovered the bombs.”
“What plan is that, Tom?”
“It’s an anonymous advertisement in the papers, making certain offers and proposing certain terms to my enemies. Here, I’ll show you what I mean.”
Tom thought for a few moments with pencil poised over a pad. Then he wrote rapidly and handed the sheet of paper to Ned. This is what his chum read:
RAPID young man, who is being held back in his work by threats and annoying, sneaking night attacks, will pay any reasonable sum just to be let alone so that he may proceed with his inventions. He wants to be swift in completing his work and it can easily be pictured how this talk about making trouble annoys him. A large sum will be paid for freedom from future annoyance. Answer in confidence, QUICK, Box 123 Evening Graphic Office.
RAPID young man, who is being held back in his work by threats and annoying, sneaking night attacks, will pay any reasonable sum just to be let alone so that he may proceed with his inventions. He wants to be swift in completing his work and it can easily be pictured how this talk about making trouble annoys him. A large sum will be paid for freedom from future annoyance. Answer in confidence, QUICK, Box 123 Evening Graphic Office.
“Do you intend to insert this advertisement in theGraphic?” asked Ned, naming the Shopton evening paper.
“That’s what I do. Don’t you think they will understand it even without my name being to it?”
“I should think the scoundrels might,” chuckled Ned. “You have as good as told them by the use of the words rapid, swift and quick, to say nothing of mentioning your talking-picture machine. Do you think that is wise?”
“Oh, they know I’m working on it,” said Tom. “It’s no use to pretend they don’t. The secret is out, but I don’t care. I’ve got the patent rights sewed up now. But I must be let alone in order to finish the last details. Take that ad in, Ned.”
“I will. I hope it brings results.”
“I think it will,” said Tom, with a significant smile. “It’s bait for a trap, and there will be some surprises when it springs shut!”
Disappointmentwould have been in store for Tom Swift and his close associates if they had expected any immediate results from the insertion of the anonymous advertisement. Ned Newton went to the designated box in the newspaper office several times following the printing of the cunningly worded request for an interview with the unknown scoundrels, but there were no letters addressed to Mr. Quick.
“I’m afraid it isn’t going to work, Tom,” remarked Ned, after the fourth day.
“Give ’em time,” was the calm reply of the young inventor. “Rome wasn’t built in a day and you can’t catch these rascals in the first trap you set.”
“Then you still intend to catch them?”
“I sure do.”
“Aren’t you disappointed that they haven’t taken the bait?”
“Not yet. In fact, I’m better pleased than if they had put in a reply at once. It shows that there are big and important men back of this movement. If they had been petty grafters or fellows who were just working to get a certain sum out of me—a comparatively small sum—they would have answered right off. As it is, the delay shows they are taking their time and considering the thing from all angles. But I think they’ll bite sooner or later and grant me the interview I desire.”
“Is that what you want—just an interview?”
“Well, that’s part of it,” was Tom’s answer, given with a peculiar smile. “Once I’m face to face with this gang I’ll know what to do. I’ve pretty well settled it in my own mind that there are big interests fighting me, and, like large bodies, they move slowly. It will be all the better for the success of my plans if they don’t bite too quickly.”
“Then you’re not quite ready for them?”
“Not quite, but I shall be in a day or so. Meanwhile, let the ad run. They’ve seen it and are a bit puzzled over what course to take, I’m sure.”
“Well, I’ll leave it to you,” Ned remarked. “I’ve got my own troubles, Tom.”
“You mean about finances?”
“Yes. We’re sailing pretty close to the wind. You’ve sunk much money in these talking pictures.”
“I realized that when you showed me the figures. But, as I said, it’s sink or swim now, and I think we’ll swim after I get through with these fellows who are hounding me.”
It was three days after this that Ned, coming away from a bank the president of which had suggested that some of the Swift loan had better be reduced soon, stopped in at theGraphicoffice. He presented the slip calling for any replies that might have been received for Mr. Quick of Box 123, and, somewhat to his surprise, he was handed an envelope. The paper was of good quality, though perfectly plain, and the address was neatly printed.
“They’re taking no chances of handwriting being traced,” remarked Ned, as he hurried back to the laboratory with the missive.
“This may mean business, Tom,” he said to his chum, “or it may be a suggestion from some other paper that you would do well to put the ad in their columns. That’s a newspaper trick, you know.”
“I know it is,” assented the young inventor. “However, this may mean business.” He tore the envelope open and he had no sooner scanned the few lines on a single sheet of paper within than he cried: “Hurray!”
“Is it from your enemies?” asked Ned.
“I think it is. Read it!”
Ned let his eyes rove over this:
“If Mr. Quick will present himself at a certain house on Rattlesnake Island he will learn something to his advantage. Mr. Quick must present himself absolutely alone. If there is any attempt at trickery all negotiations will be called off and vigorous retaliatory measures at once undertaken. Come this midnight.”
“If Mr. Quick will present himself at a certain house on Rattlesnake Island he will learn something to his advantage. Mr. Quick must present himself absolutely alone. If there is any attempt at trickery all negotiations will be called off and vigorous retaliatory measures at once undertaken. Come this midnight.”
“Are you going, Tom?” asked Ned.
“I certainly am!”
“Alone—and to Rattlesnake Island where we were held prisoners?” cried Ned.
“Why not? They won’t try any trick like that again. They’ll know I wouldn’t walk into a trap like that without leaving word where I am bound for and my non-appearance in due time would mean a search. They aren’t such fools as that. I’ll go and see what they have to say. I’ll be there when the clock strikes twelve.”
“They aren’t giving you much time for preparation. It’s after two o’clock now.”
“It’s all the time I need. I’ve been anticipating this and I’m ready. Now, Ned, I’ll let you into some of my secrets that I’ve been holding out on you.”
Thereupon Tom told Ned something which made that young man open his eyes. But even at the end, when the plans were all detailed, the business manager was a bit doubtful.
“It’s risky, Tom,” he said. “I’m afraid to have you go there alone to meet these fellows.”
“There’s no danger, I tell you. I’m not afraid. My plans have been too carefully made to permit of failure.”
But Ned’s face was serious, and when Mr. Swift heard of what his son proposed to do he added his appeals to the young inventor, asking him to try some other and less risky method.
“This is the only way,” declared Tom. “I’m going to that midnight meeting.”
When the time came, Tom Swift set off in one of his motorboats alone, heading across Lake Carlopa in the darkness, guiding his craft toward the sinister black shape of Rattlesnake Island.
Tom Swiftsat at the wheel of his craft, his hands on the spokes and his eyes gazing ahead through the darkness. He had set a straight course for Rattlesnake Island and wondered what would happen after he arrived. In spite of his bold words to Ned Newton, the young inventor was a little apprehensive, as well he might be.
He scanned the water on either side of him for a possible sight of other craft that might be heading in the same direction. But though in the distance he saw and heard other motorboats, none seemed to be laying a course for Rattlesnake Island.
“I wonder if they’ll be there—and on time,” mused Tom. He did not whisper, even to the unoccupied darkness about him, any designation of those he had in mind. He merely said: “I wonder if they’ll be there.”
It was not a long run, in Tom’s speedy craft, to the sinister, dark island where he and Ned had lately been prisoners, and almost before he had finished going over in his mind the various occurrences that had taken place since he had begun working on his talking-picture machine, the young inventor found himself approaching the place.
“Wonder if I’m to land at the dock where Snogg and Janner tied up theTurtle. Or am I to circle the island until I get a sign?” mused Tom. “From the fact that they have named as a rendezvous the old house, I should think it would be at the same dock where Ned and I saw those rascals working on their boat the time we gave them the slip. Think I’ll try there first, anyhow.”
Tom was a good navigator, and it did not take him long to get his bearings and head for the dock in question. As he approached it, he saw a dim light on it and this convinced him that he was to tie up there. Slowing his boat to half speed, for he was not sure about the state of water, and thinking there might be rocks, the young man stood up and strained his eyes to pierce the gloom. The single lantern on the end of the dock gave illumination enough to make certain that the way was clear, as far as obstructions in the water were concerned.
“Well, here I go—for better or for worse,” said Tom grimly to himself as he shut off power and allowed his craft to glide up to the stringpiece. The dock was rather a ruin, but he found a ring in a beam and made his rope fast there.
Then, before getting out of the boat, Tom looked sharply about as well as he could by such illumination as a smoking lantern gave. There was no sight nor sound of any other visitor to Rattlesnake Island. Tom seemed to be the only one there. Yet he knew there were others.
“I suppose I’m to go right up and knock at the front door,” and Tom chuckled a little. “They don’t seem to have appointed a reception committee with a brass band. Guess those fellows don’t do business that way. Well, might as well get started.”
Before getting out of his boat, however, he made sure that the mooring rope was tied in such a way that, if need be, he could make a running jump into the craft, pull the knot out with one tug of the free end and so be loosed from the dock. Also he made certain that his motor would start at once. It was a powerful and speedy craft in which Tom had come to the island—one that would start with a throw of a switch, not needing any laborious cranking.
“I might want to get away in a hurry,” he had reasoned.
Thus having taken all precautions to serve him in case of emergency, Tom clambered up on the dock and started for the shore end.
As he left the circle of friendly rays from the lantern, he could not prevent a slight feeling of uneasiness creeping over him. After all, it was a risky thing that he was doing—trusting himself alone to unknown men who had every motive for wishing him out of the way or, if not exactly out of the way, at least prevented from pursuing his activities in certain directions.
“But I think I’m going to beat them at their own game,” mused Tom, as he walked along.
His feet made ghostly echoes on the rattling planks of the old dock, and, now and then, he paused to ascertain if any one else in the neighborhood were stirring. However, he appeared to be the only one.
“Let’s see,” mused the young inventor as he was about to step off the dock to the shore. “As I remember it, the dock was to the east of the house when Ned and I looked out of the window and saw the three men. So I must turn right now.”
Accordingly he swung in that direction as he started up a path that was partly overgrown with weeds. It was quite dark, once he had left the glow of the dock lantern, and Tom was glad he had brought a pocket flashlight with him.
Switching this on, he let the bright rays fall in front of him to guide his steps so he would not get off the path. For he had in mind the sinister name of the island to which he was paying a midnight visit.
“They say the rattlesnakes are all gone,” mused Tom, as he kept as nearly as he could to the middle of the path, “but I’m taking no chances of stepping on one. I don’t want to tread on a tail and be bitten. Even if their bite isn’t always deadly, it’s bad enough.”
In spite of himself, Tom could not prevent a creepy feeling coming over him at times as he walked along on the path. He almost wished he had not selected this means of tricking the plotters. But it was too late to turn back now. He had made his choice.
Suddenly, when he judged that he was half way to the old house, Tom heard a noise in the bushes just ahead of him and off to the left. For a moment he had a fear that it might be the rustle caused by the passage of a rattlesnake through the underbrush. He flashed his light in that direction, but instead of the beams picking up the gliding form of a serpent they illuminated the feet and legs of a man.
Before Tom could cry out or step back, he heard another noise on his right, and there, too, his flashlight revealed the feet and legs of another man.
Suddenly the four feet and four legs made a rush and Tom felt himself caught by the arm on either side. His flashlight was knocked from his hand, but, falling to the ground, still glowed and its rays showed Tom that he had been caught by two Negroes.
“Let me go!” he cried, fiercely struggling to free himself. But the black men held him fast.
Then one spoke, in rather soothing accents, saying:
“It’s all right, sir. We don’t aim to be rough with you, but we got our orders. I’m sorry I knocked your light down. I’ll pick it up for you,” and, stooping, he retrieved the flashlight which he gave to Tom.
“Better put it in your pocket, sir,” suggested the other Negro. “You won’t need it where you’re going. We know the path in the dark. And don’t be worried. We aren’t going to hurt you.”
“I’m not worried,” declared Tom boldly. “But this is an outrage! I came here of my own free will for a conference and——”
“That’s all right, sir,” went on the first black man, still soothingly. “You’re going to be taken to the conference. That’s what we came down for—to meet you and show you the way.”
Tom was at once struck by the fact that the language of these Negroes was above the average. They did not talk like poor, old Eradicate. Rather their talk was that of the man who has seen service in wealthy families. As this was in line with Tom’s theories regarding the identity of the men persecuting him, he ceased to struggle and said:
“Very well. Lead me to the men with whom I have an appointment.”
“That’s just what we’ll do, sir,” said the man who had picked up the flashlight. “It’s just a bit farther on.”
The Negroes seemed able to find their way in the dark, which, Tom reflected, was more than he could have done. In a short time they led him, gently enough, into a little clearing and there, showing dimly in the light of the stars, was the house where Tom and Ned had been prisoners.
If Tom had any compunctions about entering the house again he had no time to exercise them. Nor, be it known, had he the inclination. He was there for a purpose and intended to carry it out.
“Right this way, sir,” said one of the Negroes, letting go of Tom’s right arm and preceding him to the front door. “They’re expecting you.”
He knocked—whether in a signal code or not Tom was unable to determine—and the door was opened, letting out a flood of light. The place seemed to have been prepared for the reception of the young inventor.
“Go straight ahead,” said the Negro who had opened the door, as he stepped back to allow Tom to enter.
Tom walked into a hall, furnished only with a chair. One of the three Negroes—which he could not determine—glided ahead of him, tapped on a door at the end of the corridor, and opened it in response to a voice that said:
“Enter!”
Tom Swift saw before him a brilliantly lighted room. Gathered around a table in the middle were half a dozen men. Each one wore a black mask and through the eye-holes in them Tom felt himself being sharply scrutinized.
“You may go, Richard,” said one of the men in cultured tones to the Negro who had opened the door.
Then the masked faces silently regarded the young inventor.
“Sitdown, please!”
The masked man at the head of the table—who seemed to be the leader—thus spoke to Tom and motioned to a chair, the only one in the room that was not occupied. Tom looked at it a bit suspiciously at first. He knew something of trick chairs—seats that, once occupied, gripped the sitter in arms of steel. Also this chair might be over some trapdoor which opened into a pit or into a tunnel that led to the lake.
But Tom reflected that if the men had contemplated treachery they could have exercised their will upon him when he first landed on the island. They need not have waited until now.
The chair seemed an ordinary one, and as the leader motioned toward it another of the masked men pulled it slightly forward. Clearly it had no mechanism connected with it.
“Well, I’m here,” said Tom, as he settled back in the chair, noting that it felt all right.
“So we see, and we are glad of this chance to do business with you,” remarked one, who, for want of a better designation at present, shall be denominated Mr. X. “It did not occur to us,” he went on in cultured tones, “that you would care for this method of arriving at a settlement. But, since you have, it appears to be a very good one. We are ready to do business with you.”
Tom was at once impressed by something that was very evident. These were substantial business men—men of some culture and presumably position in the world—though they did stoop to desperate means to gain their ends. They were of an entirely different class from Snogg and Janner who had kidnapped Tom and Ned. Nor were they like Greenbaum, though from two or three little signs Tom had an idea that some of these men were very wealthy.
“Yes, I am here,” went on Tom, holding himself well in hand and gazing from one masked face to the other. “And I am glad to hear that you are ready to talk business. But there is one objection.”
“What is it, Mr. Swift?” asked Mr. X courteously. “If you object to the method of meeting us, remember it was your own suggestion.”
“I am not complaining of the place of meeting nor the manner in which I was received,” stated Tom. “But I’m not used to doing business in the dark.”
“In the dark?” wonderingly exclaimed a heavy-set man on the left of Mr. X. “Why, it’s light here. Should we spend a lot more money in having more electricity? No!”
“I was not referring to the actual lighting of the place,” returned Tom, with a little smile. “It’s bright enough in one way. But when I said I was not in the habit of doing business in the dark, I referred to your masks. I like to see to whom I am talking.”
“Oh, so he means that!” exclaimed the heavy man.
“I am sorry, Mr. Swift,” put in Mr. X, who seemed affable enough. “But you will realize that at present we must, for obvious reasons, remain unknown to you. Perhaps you would not recognize us if we laid aside our masks, but that we cannot do. There are too many interests, aside from our own, involved in this to allow it. So if you feel that you cannot talk freely under the present circumstances you are at liberty to depart as you came and matters will be the same as before.”
“Do you mean,” asked Tom sharply, “that I shall be subjected to the same spying observations and attempts made to destroy my plant and my talking-picture machine?”
“I have not said so,” was the calm answer. “You are at liberty to put any construction you like on my decision.”
“There can be but one decision!” snapped Tom.
Mr. X nodded his head in assent.
“You must take us or leave us just as you find us—masked,” he said slowly. “But I, repeat my offer that you may withdraw at any time and you will not be harmed in the least.”
“No! No!” exclaimed the heavy man, with a gesture of dissent. “We want to settle this business now. It is a big business—it must be settled! I cannot sleep nights thinking what I may lose. It is terrible!”
“You will please let me conduct these negotiations,” said Mr. X coldly, turning to the interrupter. “Mr. Swift must decide for himself. He asked for this interview and he must accept our conditions of granting it. Our masks remain!”
“Very well,” replied Tom, with a shrug of his shoulders. “It is a small matter, perhaps. We will talk business, as you suggest. You read my advertisement?” he questioned.
“Doubtless, or we should not be here, nor you, either,” replied Mr. X, lightly.
“And you said you would pay a good sum to be let alone!” broke in the stout man, who might be called Mr. B, for he resembled that letter in build.
“Yes, I said that,” answered Tom. “And I am willing to keep my word. But I may as well say, here and now, that I am not prepared to pay cash. I have used so much money in perfecting my machine for showing in private homes talking pictures of theatrical plays and the broadcasting of opera and vaudeville that——”
“Oh, is it perfect? Will it work?” anxiously gasped Mr. B.
“It works!” answered Tom. “All I need do now is to put it on the market and——”
“That is just what we do not intend to let you do!” broke in Mr. X. “You will not be allowed to do that.”
“Not allowed?” came from Tom quietly. “Those are big words.”
“And we are big men in more senses than one,” said Mr. X, still softly. “There is no use beating about the bush. We know who you are, it is only fair you should know who we are, Mr. Swift.”
“Then you will unmask, after all?” inquired Tom.
“No, but we will tell you what interests we represent—if you have not already guessed it.”
“I think I can guess,” stated Tom. “You are a big syndicate of moving picture operators.”
“The guess does credit to your intelligence, Tom Swift,” said Mr. X. “We represent many large moving picture and theatrical interests of the United States, and we are frank to say that we see ruin ahead of us if your invention goes on the market uncontrolled, at least in part, by our interests. I admit that your invention may revolutionize our industry. If a man can sit in his own home and listen to a radio program, and, at the same time, see the performers, he certainly won’t put on a starched shirt and a stiff collar and pay from two to seven dollars for a seat in the theater.”
“And he won’t even come to a fifty cent movie!” lamented Mr. B.
“True enough,” agreed Mr. X.
“You seem to know something of my affairs,” said Tom, with a rueful smile. “You have not missed much.”
“We know more than you think we do,” boasted Mr. X. “At the same time we realize that you are far from beaten, so we wish to suggest a compromise.”
“We are going to make you a handsome offer!” broke in Mr. B, much to the evident annoyance of his colleague. “You will be tempted by it, I am sure. In short——”
“I thought I was to do the talking,” interrupted Mr. X.
“That’s right. Let him do it,” put in two others of the masked men. Each looked like a hard-headed American business man.
“I’ll listen to any offer you wish to make,” Tom stated. “I came here prepared to make an offer myself. But I will first listen to yours.”
He could not help admitting that the men knew more than he had suspected. In spite of the fact that he had tried to keep his invention a secret, the general principle of it had become known to these theatrical and moving picture men. Doubtless they had paid their spies and plotters well.
“To get down to business,” resumed Mr. X, “we are prepared to offer you a million dollars, Tom Swift. A million dollars!” he repeated unctuously.
“Think of that, my friend!” broke in Mr. B, who could not keep still. “A whole million!” His voice capitalized the word. “All your own to do as you like with! A million dollars! Think of it!”
Gravethough the situation was, Tom Swift could not help smiling a little at the evident sincerity and anxiety of Mr. B. Nor were the others less vitally interested. They leaned forward over the table, staring at Tom’s face, which was in the full glare of a powerful light. They wanted to see if Tom would give under the strain.
But the young inventor held himself well in hand. Though he was not quite prepared for the offer, it did not catch him napping. He still had some cards to play.
“Well,” asked Mr. X, slowly, when there had been a few seconds of silence following his offer, “what do you say?”
“I’d like to ask a few questions,” Tom replied.
“That’s only fair,” conceded Mr. X. “We’ll not promise to answer anything you want to know, however,” he stipulated.
“I think you’ll answer this one,” said Tom, with a smile. “There are always two sides to an offer,” he went on. “One is money, or some other payment. You have that on your side. Now what am I to give in exchange for this million dollars? That’s a fair question, isn’t it?”
“Very much so,” agreed Mr. X. “And a natural one. In exchange for the million we will agree to give you, you, on your part, will hand over to us all patent and other papers, including sketches, designs, patterns and blue prints of your so-called talking-picture machine. In short, you will turn the complete invention over to us, and further make a promise.”
“What sort of a promise?”
“A promise to go no farther in that field. In other words, you will forget that such a machine is capable of being made. You will wipe it out of your mind after you have turned all your rights in it over to us.”
“And may I inquire what you will do with my machine when you get it?” asked Tom, with a curious smile as he shifted about in his chair, as though it was no longer comfortable. “If you do get it in exchange for a million dollars,” he added.
“We’ll burn it up—destroy it!” excitedly cried Mr. B.
Tom Swift could not help starting in surprise. The answer was not quite what he had expected. He looked for confirmation toward the masked Mr. X, thinking the big man might have spoken impulsively. But, somewhat to the astonishment of the young inventor, the leader nodded in assent.
“Once you turn your invention over to us in exchange for the million dollars,” stated Mr. X, “it becomes our exclusive property for us to do with as we please. And, very likely, we shall destroy it.”
“What for?” Tom could not help impulsively asking.
“To prevent our business from being ruined, young man! That’s why!” burst out Mr. B. “Do you think,” he went on in spite of the effort Mr. X made to silence him, “we want people to stay at home listening to music and seeing pictures of a performance on your screen? Where would we be if millions of people did about pictures what they are doing right now with their radio receivers? We’d be ruined in six months and we have millions tied up in our theaters—millions! No, sir. Once we get your machine we’ll destroy it!”
“You haven’t got it yet,” Tom saw fit to remind him quietly. “And now, since you have been frank with me I will be the same with you. Your offer of a million dollars seems big to you. But let me tell you this. If you offered me ten millions with the proviso that my machine be destroyed I’d snap my fingers at you as I do now!” and Tom suited the action to his words, rising from the chair as he did so.
“Gentlemen, I shall bid you good evening!” he went on. “I have found out what I wanted to know.”
Suddenly Mr. B’s fingers went to the mask on his face. Evidently he feared it had slipped and revealed his identity. Tom could not help smiling as he said:
“Oh, I don’t know who you are personally, and I don’t know that I care. It may make no difference. But I can discover your identities if I choose. That is neither here nor there. The point is I refuse your offer and I’m going back to my laboratory and perfect my machine. Inside of a month it will be on the market!”
“Oh! oh!” wailed Mr. B. Some of the others showed evidence of perturbation, but Mr. X remained calm.
“Sit down again, Mr. Swift,” he said, and his tone was not as smooth as before.
“Is that a command or an invitation?” asked Tom sharply.
“You may regard it either way you like,” was the reply. And Tom did not need to be told that the playing was over—stern reality was now to the fore. The men still had masks on their faces, but they no longer masked their intentions.
“Just a minute,” said Tom, still standing by the chair. “You said, at the beginning that I was here of my own free will—that I could walk out of here any time I wished.”
“That was true at the time it was stated,” said Mr. X. “I may withdraw my offer any time.”
“Have you withdrawn it?”
There was a moment’s pause and then came the low reply:
“I have. Yes.”
“Then I am not free to go?”
“Not until you listen further to me,” said Mr. X. “I think you are very unwise, Tom Swift. We have made you a liberal offer. It is much more than you can make for a long time if you market your apparatus. We are interested in controlling it. What difference does it make to you whether we buy the machine and manufacture it in such quantities as we please or if we buy it and destroy it—as long as you get your price?”
“That’s just it!” replied Tom angrily. “I’m not getting my price.”
“We might increase our offer,” suggested Mr. X.
“A certain man once said,” remarked Tom slowly, “that he was poor, but, poor as he was, the King of England was not rich enough to buy him. I say the same to you now. I am in need of funds—I do not hesitate to admit that. But, slender as my bank balance is, there is not enough cash among you masked men to pay me for destroying a machine I have worked so hard over—a machine which I hope will prove to be a delight to humanity. That’s my answer. In other words, I defy you! I’m through! I’m going to walk out of here now. This conference is ended!”
“Oh, no, it isn’t ended yet,” said Mr. X in sinister tones as he arose and stepped toward a push button on the wall. “We have something else to say to you, Tom Swift. I didn’t want to resort to harsh means, but there seems to be no hope for it.”
“Wait a minute!” exclaimed the young inventor. “I think I understand your game. Perhaps you think you can torture me into giving in. Or you may even have it in mind to kill me, thinking, thereby, to prevent my machine from being perfected and going on the market.
“Listen to what I say. If you do away with me it will make no difference to that machine. It is complete and will be made and marketed. Full details of the invention are already in Washington to be patented. More than this—four models have been made. One is in my laboratory where you may get at it and destroy it—I don’t say you can’t.
“But there are three other complete and working models in the hands of three friends of mine in different parts of the country. They have orders in case I do not reappear by a certain time to make public all the facts and to put the machine on the market.”
“Oh! oh! He’s got us beat!” lamented the big man.
“No, he hasn’t!” snarled Mr. X. “I’ll force him to do as we want him to.”
“Oh, so you talk of force now, do you?” asked Tom.
“Since you compel me—yes.”
“Then it is time for me to play the same game,” went on the young inventor, with a tantalizing smile.
“What do you mean?” came from three of the men, in evident alarm.
“My instructions were,” said Tom, “to come to this island alone. I did so, as you doubtless know. But early this morning a number of my friends preceded me here—and they are here now. Gentlemen, this house is entirely surrounded. None of you can possibly escape—neither you nor your Negro thugs. If I am not permitted to walk out of here unmolested whenever I please, I will give the signal and you will at once be arrested.”
“You think we will believe such a foolish statement as that?” scoffed Mr. X. “I tell you that you are at our mercy, Tom Swift! This house surrounded? Bosh!”
For answer Tom went to a window and raised the shade. At the same time he pressed the wall switch and plunged the room in darkness.
“Look!” cried Tom, and from the darkness outside, shining through the now dulled window glass, came a flashing light, thrice repeated.
There was a gasp of surprise from the masked men in the dark room.
“Look here!” went on Tom, moving to a window on the other side of the room. From the gloom without there shone another of the thrice flashing lights.
“It is the same on the other two sides of the house,” remarked Tom.
The masked men sat silent, seemingly dazed.
“What is your answer now?” triumphantly asked the young inventor as it was made plain to the plotters that they were surrounded.