FLASHING LIGHTS
GRAVE though 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.