"I began with quite a small idea, Antony," he continued. "I will show
you. My idea was this. You see now, my boy, that with the present
machine the type is laid on a table, and it goes backwards and forwards
under a great iron cylinder or roller, grinding continually, and being
worn out."
"Yes, I know; the type gets thick and blurred in its fine upstrokes."
"Exactly," he said, smiling. "Well, Antony, I tried to invent a simple
process of making a mould or seal, when the type was ready, and then--"
"Making a solid block of fresh type in the big mould. I know," I cried.
"Right, my boy, right," he cried; "and I have done it!"
"But does it want a machine like that?"
"Oh no," he replied: "that grew out of the idea. I was not satisfied
then with my solid block of type, which might be used and then melted
down again. It struck me, Antony, that it would be better if I made
that solid block curved, so as to fit on a big cylinder, and let it go
round instead of the paper. I could then print twice as many."
"Ye-yes," I said, "but I hardly see it."
"I will show you presently, my boy," he replied. "Well, I worked at
that idea till I felt satisfied that I could carry it out, when a
greater idea came."
He paused and wiped his forehead, gazing now, though, out at the starry
night, and speaking in a low earnest voice.
"It seemed to me then, Antony, that I ought to do away with the simple,
clumsy plan of making men or boys supply or lay-on paper, sheet by
sheets as the machine was at work."
"What could you do?" I said.
"Ah, that was the question. I was thinking it over, when going through
Saint Paul's Churchyard I saw in one of the draper's shops a basket of
rolls of ribbon, and the thing was done."
"How?" I asked.
"By having the paper in a long roll, a thousand yards upon a reel, to be
cut off sheet by sheet as it is printed between the cylinders."
"But could you get paper made so long?"
"To be sure," he said; "the paper-mills make it in long strips that are
cut up in sheets as they are finished. In my machine they would be cut
up only when printed. Now, what do you say?"
"It's like trying to read Greek the first time, Mr Hallett," I said.
"My head feels all in a muddle."
"Out of which the light will come in time, my boy. But suppose I could
make such a machine, Antony, what would you say then?"
"It would be grand!" I exclaimed.
"It would make a revolution in printing," he cried enthusiastically.
"Well, will you help me, Antony?" he said, with a smile.
"Help you! May I?"
"Of course. I shall be glad; only, remember, it is our secret."
"You may trust me," I said. "But it must be patented."
"To be sure. All in good time."
"It will make your fortune."
"I hope so," he said dreamily, "For others' sake more than mine."
"Yes," I cried; "and then you could have a nice place and a carriage for
Mrs Hallett, and it would make her so much happier."
"Yes," he said, with a sigh.
"And you could be a gentleman again."
He started, and a curious look came over his face; but it passed away
directly, and I saw him shake his head before turning to me with a
smile.
"Antony," he said quietly, "suppose we build the machine, the castles in
the air will build themselves. I tell you what; you shall work
sometimes and help me to plan; but, as a rule, while I file and grind
you shall read some Latin or German author, and you and I can improve
ourselves as we go."
"Agreed!" I cried, and then the rest of the night was spent--a very
short night, by the way--in examining the various parts of the little
model, Hallett seeming to give himself fresh ideas for improvements as
he explained the reason for each wheel and spindle, and told me of the
difficulties he had to contend with for want of proper tools and the
engineer's skill.
"I want a lathe, Antony," he said; "and a good lathe costs many pounds,
so I have to botch and patch, and buy clock-wheels and file them down.
It takes me a whole evening sometimes wandering about Clerkenwell or the
New Cut hunting for what I want."
"But I can often help you in that way," I said, "and I will."
We went down soon after to a late supper, Hallett jealously locking up
his attic before we descended. Mrs Hallett had gone to bed and Linny
was reading, and jumped up as if startled at our entrance.
Hallett spoke to her as we sat down to supper, and I noticed that he
seemed to be cold and stern towards her, while Linny was excited and
pettish, seeming to resent her brother's ways, and talked to me in a
light, pleasant, bantering manner about Bluebeard's secret chamber.
I noticed, too, that she always avoided her brother's eye, and when we
parted that night Hallett seemed a good deal troubled, though he did not
tell me why.