THE MEETING
DISAPPOINTMENT would 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 the _Graphic_ office. 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.”
“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.