A FINAL TEST
THERE was a relieved air about the men gathered in the old house on
Rattlesnake Island now that Tom Swift had made terms with them. Truth to
tell, they had been more than a little afraid of this clear-eyed, keen
young man who was able to dictate terms to them.
“Now let there be no mistake about this,” said Tom. “We can draw up a
new agreement, incorporating in it the terms of this one,” and he
produced the rough draft in which the men had agreed to molest him no
longer.
“What do you want put in?” asked Mr. X, producing paper and a fountain
pen.
“I want this three-million-dollar offer for a half interest in my
invention put into an ironclad agreement. I also want your written
promise to interfere with me no longer.”
“We aren’t likely to bother you, considering that we are now associated
with you in this thing,” observed Mr. B.
“Well, it will do no harm to put it in,” decided Tom. “Also, I want you
to acknowledge full responsibility for the actions of your men,
Greenbaum and the others, and your promise to send them far away from
here.”
“That’s no more than fair,” agreed Mr. X. “Those men went further than
we told them to do. We had no sympathy with Greenbaum’s attempt to blow
you up and——”
“It was more than an attempt,” interrupted Tom, with a grim smile.
“There really was a disastrous explosion and I expect to be paid damages
for that out of your share of the profits. I want that in the agreement,
too.”
“You shall have it,” promised Mr. X, though some of his colleagues made
rather wry faces at Tom’s exaction of his “pound of flesh.” But he was
within his rights, and he knew it.
In a short time the agreement was drawn up and signed by all of them,
and then Mr. X remarked:
“Of course this is contingent upon your invention being a success, Mr.
Swift. Your broadcasting of songs and music must be clear, the images of
the performers on the attached screen must be very plain, not shadowy
forms, and the two must synchronize. You must remember that we have not
seen your invention. All we know is what we have heard of it.”
“From your spies, doubtless,” Tom responded bitterly. “And they could
find out very little. But don’t worry. The machine must be perfect
before I put it on the market. I am going to have a final test and you
may witness it in person or you may send any one you like to report.”
“Some of us will probably be on hand when you give a final showing,”
said Mr. X. “And now, as it is getting late, I suggest that we adjourn.
We want to get back to our homes and you do also, I suppose, Mr. Swift?”
“Yes, I don’t feel like spending another night on Rattlesnake Island,”
replied Tom, with a smile. “One was enough. I’ll call in my friends and
you can come to my final test—say a week from to-night in my private
laboratory.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. X.
Tom bade the men good-night and went out into the darkness, leaving the
conspirators to growl somewhat among themselves at having been beaten by
a mere youth.
“At the same time,” said Mr. X, “I can’t help admiring Tom Swift for the
manner in which he turned the tables on us.”
“That’s right,” chimed in another. “He’s the pluckiest fellow I ever had
any dealings with. And to think, if we’d persisted, he could have had us
all arrested and our names and our pictures would have been in the
papers. Whew!”
“Oh my!” wailed Mr. B. “It’s cost us a pretty penny, but maybe it will
be worth it.”
Meanwhile Tom, outside the old house, was signaling with his flashlight
to call his friends in from their posts about the place.
“Is everything all right?” asked Ned, who led one of the four parties.
He glided to his chum’s side from the darkness.
“Everything is settled, and we get three million dollars for a half
interest,” said Tom, producing the agreement.
“Hot dog!” gleefully cried Ned. “That’s the best news yet! We sure will
need that money, Tom! I couldn’t have held the banks off much longer.
Good for you!”
In a short time Tom and Ned, with Mr. Damon, Koku and Eradicate were on
their way back across Lake Carlopa, leaving the other members of the
Swift party to follow in other boats as they pleased.
Though Tom Swift had gone to Rattlesnake Island alone as he had been
bidden, the setting of his trap called for many of his most trusted men
to precede him to the rendezvous. They had gone at intervals so no
suspicions would be aroused.
So, during the day before the night of the meeting, several parties of
seemingly innocent fishermen might have been seen landing on the island
at a point farthest removed from the dock used by Tom. These parties
were posted in the woods on four sides of the frame house and there they
waited for Tom’s signal. Ned was in charge of one party and Mr. Damon of
another. Garret Jackson and his assistant took command of the two
remaining squads.
“And bless my fountain pen!” exclaimed Mr. Damon as they were talking
matters over on their way home in Tom’s boat, “I thought you were never
going to flash the signals, Tom.”
“It took a little time to get things where I wanted them,” the young
inventor said. “But it worked out all right. They certainly were
astonished.”
“Do you think they’ll play square with you, Tom?” asked Ned.
“They’ll have to, for their own safety. I’ve got them where they can’t
help themselves. After the final demonstration, a week from to-night, we
get the three millions.”
“I suppose there is no doubt, Tom, as to the success of the thing?”
ventured Ned.
“Not the slightest!” Tom’s voice was full of confidence.
Grumblings and growlings were heard issuing from the throat of Koku. Tom
asked what the trouble was.
“He’s complaining because there was no fight!” chuckled Mr. Damon. “He
says Ned promised him that he could get hold of some of your enemies,
Tom, but it all fizzled out.”
“Me want smash um!” growled the giant, clenching his big fists.
“Too bad!” chuckled Tom. “But I couldn’t pull off the fight, Koku.
Better luck next time.”
Tom made his motorboat fast to his own private dock and went home to
tell his father the good news—that all matters were satisfactorily
settled. He knew the aged inventor would be worried.
“I’m glad you’re back, Tom,” Mr. Swift said when he saw his son. “Now
you can take it easy. You’ve been working too hard.”
“The hard work isn’t over yet,” the young inventor answered. “I still
have to give a perfect final test.”
To this end he and Ned and the workmen bent all their energies during
the next six days. Mr. Swift aided where he could and Mr. Damon was
again called on to do his funny song and dance. Now that the invention
was about to be made public and Tom had no fear about his patents being
stolen from him, the affair could be openly talked about.
“Are you going to ask us to the dress rehearsal?” inquired Mary, when
Tom was spending an evening with her.
“Better than that—I want you to be in it,” he said.
“In it?”
“Yes, you and Helen. I want to see how ladies’ garments will be shown on
the screen. Ned and Mr. Damon balk at becoming female impersonators.
Will you help?”
“Delighted! Oh, Tom, I do hope it will be a success!”
The night of the final test came at last. Several changes had been made
both in the projecting machine and in the broadcasting studio since
Tom’s last attempt to show talking pictures. He had put a metallic
curtain with reflecting mirrors in the room where Mr. Damon and Ned had
done their part and the results were better.
“Though some day, Ned,” Tom said to his chum, after a preliminary test,
“I’ll show these images without the use of any screen at all. I’ll pick
the electric impulses right out of the air just as wireless sound waves
come now.”
“That will mean you can broadcast from any theater without the use of
this sort of curtain,” Ned remarked, pointing to the one in the
broadcasting room.
“That’s right. All that will be needed in the theater will be a small
cabinet, out of sight, on the stage. But more of that later. Now we’ll
go ahead with the test.”
The moving picture and theatrical men, representing the syndicate that
had bought a half interest in Tom’s invention, were on hand in the
studio. They had brought with them some experts who were to pass on
certain phases of the machine. Mr. Damon, with Ned and the two girls
were in the studio. Tom Swift, with Mr. Jackson and some men to assist
him, was busy at the projecting machine by means of which the audience
hoped to hear the distant music and see the performers through several
solid walls.
“All ready, Ned?” Tom asked over the private telephone.
“All set,” was the answer.
“Then get going!” ordered Tom in a low voice.
He turned the switch for the final test, knowing that a great deal
depended on it. Those three million dollars were sorely needed to save
the Swift fortunes.