A TEMPTING OFFER
“SIT down, 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!”