The dull grey light of dawn was just creeping in through the windows.
Atkill was sitting on the edge of his bed, and there was an expensive
English cigarette between his lips. Shorty Grimm sat across the table
from him. His face was white, his hands trembled and his breath reeked
of cheap whisky. There was a bottle of Atkill's private and very
fine stock on the table, and a half empty glass between it and an
over-flowing ash tray. Grimm's eyes held a look of blank horror and
terror.
"Gawd, Atty, I saw it. I saw Mike flyin' through the air, then I saw
him fly inta that tree--then the tree fell down, and there was Mike,
cryin' like a baby, and laughin' somethin' awful. A man ain't meant to
laugh that way.
"But that Thing seemed all soft, like a rubber sponge, but it knocked
that tree down so easy it didn't even jar Mike. And that white
thing--like a big cold ghost all around us, and we could see through
it like a fog. It was so cold it froze Pete's whisky, and that's good
strong stuff he gets."
Atkill laughed, a queer, little, strained laugh. "It was a lot colder
than that, I suspect. Tell me, it turned white? But did it get wet,
and--water--blue water drip from it?"
"Yeah," replied Shorty amazed, "how'd you know?"
"It wasn't water, it was air. I didn't know--I guessed."
"But--but air ain't like water. It ain't ever a liquid," objected the
bewildered gangster.
"It is," replied Atkill patiently, "when it gets cold enough. You
probably saw the coldest flask that ever existed. It probably didn't
have any heat at all--absolute zero." He ruminated silently. Then
stretched and stood up.
"Sorry, Shorty, but I guess you didn't get hurt. I didn't think he
would hurt you. He should have wiped you out, of course. I'll bet he
could have put you where they'd never find you within the next hundred
million years," he smiled unpleasantly, and Grimm looked more unhealthy
than ever. "He could probably have put you on the moon without trying,
or hidden you in space.
"It's no use though now, Shorty. He's found the secret. You know that
ball of white fire you saw on the iron block? That little ball of fire
was giving off more power--could give more power than all the rest
of the power plants on earth combined. That ball of fire could have
stopped this planet, and made it turn around and go the other way. It
could have lifted this whole city off the map, and put it down in the
middle of the Pacific Ocean, just as easily as it lifted you and put
you down in the middle of a field, or the middle of a tree for that
matter. There's only one thing that could stop that little ball of
fire," he went on, more to himself than to Grimm.
"Wat's that?" asked the awed listener.
"Another one like it, only bigger, Shorty--another one like it." He
smiled to himself.
"You failed--but here's a grand for your trouble and--unpleasant
experiences." He handed a bill to the man, and waved him out. Nestor
would pay the expenses.
He turned out the light, and went back to bed.
* * * * *
"Hello, Nestor. Got news for you," said Atkill as he came into the
sedately luxurious office.
Nestor looked up eagerly, his shrewd eyes snapping. "What?"
"I sent some men to steal the data from the Putney place, you know.
They came back last night, or rather this morning, and told a wild tale
about being surrounded by walls they couldn't see, that pistol-bullets
bounced off of like rubber balls, that let light through, but wouldn't
let them out. Then they told me about a ghostly, white cylinder that
nearly froze them, and about a ball of fire the size of a basket-ball
resting on a block of iron. And they said something soft picked them up
and hustled them out of the laboratory, and flew across the field with
them. It set one of them down in the middle of a tree--after knocking
down the tree without jarring the man.
"And he brought me this." Atkill extended the note Warren had sent.
"He's done it?" asked Nestor sharply.
"Obviously," Atkill returned contemptuously.
The note was as follows:
"Messrs. Atkill and Nestor:
"We feel it advisable to announce our success in our experiments to
you first of all men. It will not be worth while to make further
attempts to steal the data you are attempting to get. You will find
full particulars in the patent specification and claims filed three
days ago.
"We don't like to make threats, but we wish to advise you that this
laboratory is adequately protected.
"Compliments to Atkill on his clever electro-static counterbalance.
"Randolph T. Warren
"Donald M. Putney."
Nestor snorted. Then he sat back sorrowfully. "It looks," he decided,
"as though that ungrateful fool wins."
"He certainly isn't a fool," smiled Atkill. "And I don't think him
particularly ungrateful. You had him fired so he'd be of more use to
you.
"And I thank him for that compliment. It _was_ a clever device. One of
the cleverest dodges ever devised probably."
"Well, you may agree with him," Nestor retorted angrily, "but at any
rate you're through. Get out."
"One hundred thousand dollars first, please." Atkill replied smoothly.
"Huh? Why? You didn't do anything but cost money. You go read your
contract, and you'll see that if you lose you get $100,000 minus the
cost of apparatus, which was--let me see--seventy-five thousand so
far." Nestor sat back with an expression such as that worn by a cat
after the untimely demise of the canary.
Atkill looked at him coldly, very coldly, and a flame of murder, of
equally cold murder, lurked in his eyes.
"Oh, is that it? Very clever." He paused, and the look in his eyes
changed to rapid calculation.
"All right, will you let me leave _my_ apparatus there in your
laboratory until I have that twenty-five thousand in my bank?"
"Certainly," smirked Nestor, "I'll give you a check."
Twenty minutes later Atkill left with a check for twenty-five thousand
dollars, which he had certified as soon as he reached the bank. He
put it in his safety deposit box, and went on in the even tenor of
his ways. He had Nestor's written agreement to leave the apparatus as
it was till he had his twenty-five thousand in the bank. He also had
Nestor's check, which could not be stopped, and proved nothing till he
cashed it.
Atkill had received no money. And he would receive none till Nestor
paid him the rest of his fee, in order that the bulky apparatus might
be moved from a costly laboratory, which was now thoroughly useless.
Nestor on the other hand, felt that that unhappy business was well
completed, so far as it touched Atkill. On the other hand, he was _not_
through. He began doing some deep and serious thinking. Presently
he called up William J. Fordham, President of the Atlantic Power
Companies. He also arranged to have Arthur Benholt, of Central States
Power and Thomas Ringman of Pacific Coast Power Lines on the wire.
"Gentlemen, this is Thaddeus Nestor speaking, and I have something of
great importance to tell you. It is too important to trust to the wire.
Let us all meet in St. Louis to-morrow noon. Is that satisfactory?"
"What is the basis of this important item?" asked Fordham cautiously.
"An invention, an invention that will wreck every power company, every
air line, every railroad and steamship line, every industry in the
world! I have been assured by competent men that it would ruin every
power company within a week of its announcement. It must be stopped."
"We'll be there," said Fordham slowly. The others agreed, and began
crossing off appointments on memo slips.
Nestor's assurances had weight.