"Hello, Gramps," grinned Atkill as he came into the sedate, carefully
furnished office of Thaddeus Nestor, "I've been making inquiries, and
a friend of mine tried to steal those things, or have them stolen.
Three men went, but Putney's no fool, as I said, and he had the whole
place lit up with ultra-violet floodlights, and the men didn't even
know they were walking under brilliant lights. They watched my friends
come across the yard, and finally captured them. They've wired the big
fence with A.C. evidently, for when they touched it they just bounced
off again. Looks as though we'll have to work through Wilson if at all.
Maybe he can give us some plans of the fortifications."
"In the first place," Nestor snapped irritably, "I'm not your
grandfather--praise the good Lord--and in the second place I don't like
this sending thieves. Did they tell anything?"
"Did they talk?" Atkill smiled faintly. "Did you think Putney
wouldn't make them? He strapped 'em in a big wooden chair and set up
a Tesla coil behind their ears. Loud noises, big sparks, spectacular
display--and heavy copper conductors strapped on their wrists. I'll
bet they talked so fast a dictaphone couldn't keep up." Atkill smiled
faintly. "But don't worry, they didn't know anything anyway--or they'd
have had the sense to carry a fluorescent screen of some sort to warn
them. I asked a friend and he asked a friend of his and the friend of
his confidentially told a friend of his, who sent three of his men.
Besides, Putney knew who sent them without asking, anyway. Nobody else
wanted the junk."
"Well then, see the trouble you've got us into at the start!" wailed
Nestor. "What can we do?"
"What can they do?" laughed the physicist. "They can't prove a thing.
As a matter of fact they have made it impossible to send any of Joe
Keller's friends. The whole gang is so scared now they wouldn't talk
about it above whispers. I've got to hand it to that boy, Putney.
Police protection wouldn't stop those crooks, but the 'muscle' they've
got now stops every one of them.
"'Muscle'? What's that?" Nestor inquired blankly.
"Reputation for unpleasant happenings." Atkill smiled engagingly. "In
the meantime I've made some progress. My apparatus is started. And I
think I know what Warren was trying to do."
"What?"
"Transmutation."
"Yes, of course. Is that the best your famous brain can do? Anyone over
at the University could have told you."
"Yes, that's the best I can do right now. You ask one of your
University friends what Warren's theory of transmutation was. If he
can't tell you, I will." Atkill started for the door, and called over
his shoulder as he left, "But it doesn't work that way, so we can't
make gold. I'm going to work."
Nestor looked suddenly interested, as Atkill mentioned transmutation,
but his face fell as he was assured it wouldn't work. He growled some
unintelligible remark, then picked up his desk telephone, and called
a number at the University. Presently he was speaking to Professor
William Boyd.
"Hello, Professor Boyd?"
"Yes, is this Mr. Nestor?"
"Right. Say, do you know what Warren was working on when he ruined that
apparatus?"
"It wasn't Warren who ruined the apparatus, Mr. Nestor, but his
assistant, Blamen. But they were working on the transmutation of the
atom. He hoped to change the nuclear structure."
"Uhuh, so I heard. Do you happen to know what this hyp--hypothenuse
was?"
"I can't say, he didn't tell anyone. I'm sorry, but why don't you ask
him?"
Nestor growled, and hung up, and Boyd left the telephone with a gesture
of distaste.
Atkill had found out where Wilson usually ate when he was in town for
purchasing supplies, and had set a man to watch for him on his next
trip into the city. Nearly a week went by, and Atkill was growing
nervous. His apparatus had been finished, as best he could make it, and
the Sanderson tube connected. However, it had a nickel wire instead
of the iron wire Warren had used, and he was not at all sure what his
results would be. Two tentative, low-voltage discharges in the tube had
merely resulted in a peculiar feeling of strain in the laboratory, a
feeling of some terrific jerk.
The mechanics had assisted him in making his apparatus, and had
directed the work really, for they had seen the original mechanism
Warren used in his successful, if not over-successful experiment. But
they did not know that Warren had sent a current through the little
iron wire, and Atkill did not guess this, for though the filaments had
been sealed in all the tubes, they were practically never used, there
was so seldom any reason for them. Sanderson had put them there in case
they should be wanted, for it would be impossible to insert them after
the tube was brought to earth.
That, and the fact that Atkill was afraid, with reason, to try any high
voltage on his tube, made his experiments unsuccessful. Further, his
magnets were not properly arranged. Warren had changed them after the
photograph Atkill worked from had been taken.
But when at last his scout reported that Wilson was entering the little
restaurant, Atkill left his laboratory at once and hurried over to meet
the little man.
He found him seated in one of the small private booths, a waiter
hovering near. It was one of the old-fashioned restaurants where
waiters served the customers, as Atkill knew. This particular waiter
was in his pay, however.
Wilson glanced up as Atkill entered. "Dr. Atkill!" he exclaimed as he
recognized the famous physicist.
Wilson agreed with Nestor's description. He had a disappointed look.
Atkill was anxious to change that.
"Hello Wilson, may I join you?"
"Certainly, Doctor. I didn't think you'd know me, though I naturally
knew you."
"Oh, I've seen you around." Atkill's smile was friendly, it seemed to
intimate that Wilson was an equal, and a man he was glad to be friendly
with. "And then too, I've used that clever little microspectroscope of
yours."
Wilson glowed with satisfaction. His one invention, a slight
improvement on an existing device, was a thing very dear to him. Atkill
had won him over completely.
Half an hour later they left the restaurant the best of friends. Atkill
had spread himself to be agreeable, and Wilson had talked a great
deal more than he realized. Atkill had a perfect map of the complete
defenses of the Putney laboratory, and knew exactly where to find the
notes when he got in. However, he decided to send someone else. He
couldn't afford to be captured.
"That fence--clever! Bet Warren thought of the capacitance bridge. But
we can overcome that with a little patience. A bridge of our own, and a
little static apparatus----" Atkill began planning just what sort of a
thing would be needed to neutralize the effects of a man's capacity on
the fence. He set to work on it soon after he reached the laboratory,
and in a few hours had a suitcase that would contain his apparatus,
within it the assembled machine was ready for use. He tried it on a
metal plate set up against the wall, and the results gave perfect
success. He could walk to the plate leisurely, and touch it without so
much as disturbing the sensitive capacitance bridge.
He put his apparatus in the office safe, took down his hat, and
shrugged on his coat, after carefully washing up. He was smiling
contentedly as he walked toward the moving way on Fifth Avenue
Third. He threw away his cigarette, and stepped upon the third level
escalator, paid his fare, and started toward the information point.
He found Joe in a little cottage on the Palisades. Joe was nattily
dressed now, and looking happy. His cottage was entirely automatic, and
heavily armed. The police, moreover, were no longer looking for him. He
had grown a new set of finger prints.
Joe didn't greet him so enthusiastically this time. The last visit had
resulted in rather unhappy consequences for some of his friends. "Hello
Atty. Watcha want?" he asked apathetically.
"I'll tell you, Joe. I want to make an offer," began the physicist
frankly. "I want a certain job done, it's going to be a bit difficult,
perhaps, but it will be worth it to me, and I'll make it worth it to
you. I'll not give you any money for it." Joe looked puzzled, but not
deeply so. He wasn't really interested, he had an excellent idea what
the job was.
"Nah? What then?"
"The Death Ray machine--with sixty charges still in it."
Joe sat up like a spring coming into position. He stared at Atkill
sharply, then slumped unhappily. "Now I know it can't be done. What is
it? What y're getting at?"
"Oh, Joe, it can be done easily enough--now. You remember that place
where those friends of yours went, and came back with tales of all
sorts of things--terrible things--? Well, I found out a lot about that
place from a man named Wilson, who works there, and Wilson told me
all about it. You know, those rats of yours started spouting without
so much as a slight burn! They're dirty liars, Joe. Wilson saw it,
and he told me that all Warren did was to clamp them in a big wooden
chair, and start a spark machine, what we call a Tesla Coil, about as
dangerous as a fly-swatter, right behind their ears. It looks bad, and
those rats got scared, and talked so fast they couldn't understand all
they said. Joe, they squealed without a heavy touch!"
Joe began to be interested; he was very anxious to believe this, and
to believe he could win that death ray. "Yuh--how ya' know this Wilson
bird ain't lyin'?"
"Joe, he wouldn't. He thought I was his best friend. He was spouting
forth the confidences of his dried-up, little heart.
"And he even told me all about the fence, and the other things they
have there. Why I can give you a map of how to get in there now, and
how to get out again. I'll give you a suitcase that's got a machine in
it that will keep you from affecting their traps. You know how an old
radio set squeals when you take the shielding off? Well, that's because
your hand gets near it, and upsets the balance. That's what they are
using, and all we have to do, is to put an electrical shield up, and
they'll never know you're there.
"Get three men here, Joe, and I'll show them how to do it. I even know
just where the papers I want are."
Joe was succumbing. That Death Ray sounded good, the thing sounded easy
now.
"Yeah--but what about that fence? Mike said it kicked like a damn mule?"
"Certainly," replied Atkill. "Tell him to take a good hold on an
electric light wire, and see how it feels. Just plain ordinary
electricity. Every one of you ought to know that."
"O. K. I ain't tellin' 'em, though. You give 'em orders, an' if they
squeal, that's your bad luck," decided Joe.
An hour later Atkill was giving orders, and demonstrations in his
laboratory. He didn't mind. He knew that both Warren and Putney knew
who it was that was ordering this attack on their papers. So he showed
the men that his machine prevented their being detected, showed the
film of grey-white paint on the suitcase that flamed greenish when
ultra-violet light struck it, and gave them a map of the grounds.
Ten minutes later the three gunmen headed for the New Jersey Monorail.