USELESS PLEADINGS
TOM SWIFT was 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 it _didn’t_ happen,” 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 to _swim_!” 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.