SOFT WORDS
"Well, I'm glad of one thing!" exclaimed Tom, when the ink bottle
and the paper cutter on Mr. Damon's desk had ceased rattling,
because of the violence of the blow. "I'm glad of one thing."
"What's that, Tom?" asked his friend.
"I heard you bless something at last--the first time since I came
in."
"Oh!" and Mr. Damon laughed. "Well, Tom, I haven't been blessing
things lately--that's a fact. I haven't had the heart for it.
There are too many business complications. I wish I'd never met
this Peters."
"So do I," said Tom. "My motor boat would not have been damaged
then."
"Did he do that, Tom?"
"He certainly did, and then he accused me of being at fault."
"That would be just like him. Tell me about it, Tom."
When the young inventor finished the story of the collision Mr.
Damon sat silent for a moment. Then he remarked slowly:
"That's just like Peters. A big bluff--that's what he is. I wish
I'd discovered that fact sooner--I'd be money in pocket. But I
allowed myself to be deceived by his talk about big profits. At
first he seemed like a smart business man, and he certainly had
fine recommendations. But I am inclined to believe, now, that the
recommendations were forged."
"What did he do to you, Mr. Damon?" asked Tom, with ready
sympathy.
"It's too complicated to go into details over, Tom, but to make a
long story short, he got me to invest nearly all my fortune in
some enterprises that, I fear, are doomed to failure. And if they
do fail, I'll be a ruined man."
"No, you won't!" exclaimed Tom. "That's one reason why I came here
to-day. Father told me to offer you all the ready money you needed
to get out of your trouble. How much do you need, Mr. Damon?"
"Bless my collar button! That's like your father, Tom," and now
Mr. Damon seemed more like his old self. "Bless my shoes, a man
never knows who his real friends are until trouble comes. I can't
say how I thank you and your father, Tom. But I'm not going to
take advantage of him."
"It wouldn't be taking any advantage of him, Mr. Damon. He has
money lying idle, and he'd like to have you use it."
"Well, Tom, I might use it, if I had only myself to think about.
But there's no use in throwing good money after bad. If I took
yours now this fellow Peters would only get it, and that would be
the last of it."
"No, Tom, thank you and your father just the same, but I'll try to
weather the storm a bit longer myself. Then, if I do go down I
won't drag anybody else with me. I'll hang on to the wreck a bit
longer. The storm may blow over, or--or something may happen to
this fellow Peters."
"Has he really got you in his grip, Mr. Damon?"
"He has, and, to a certain extent, it's my own fault. I should
have been suspicious of him. And now, Tom, let me give you a
further word of warning. You heard me say to steer clear of this
Peters?"
"Yes, and I'm going to. But I'm going to make him pay for damaging
my boat, if I possibly can."
"Maybe it would be wiser not to try that, Tom. I tell you he's a
tricky man. And one thing more. I have heard that this man Peters
makes a specialty of organizing companies to take up new
inventions."
"Is that so?" asked Tom, interestedly.
"Yes, but that's as far as it goes. Peters gets the invention, and
the man, out of whose brain it came, gets nothing."
"In other words, he swindles them?"
"That's it, Tom. If not in one way, then in another. He cheats
them out of the profits of their inventions. So I want to warn you
to be on the lookout."
"Don't worry," said Tom. "Peters will get nothing from my father
or me. We'll be on our guard. Not that I think he will try it, but
it's just as well to be warned. I didn't like him from the moment
he ran into me, and, now that I know what he has done to you, I
like him still less. He won't get anything from me!"
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom. I wish he'd gotten nothing out
of me."
"Are you sure you won't let my father help you, financially, Mr.
Damon?"
"No, Tom, at least not for the present. I'm going to make another
fight to hold on to my fortune. If I find I can't do it alone,
then I'll call on you. I'm real glad you called. Bless my
shoestring! I feel better now."
"I'm glad of it," laughed Tom, and he saw that his friend was in a
better state of mind, as his "blessings" showed.
Tom remained for a little longer, talking to Mr. Damon, and then
took his leave, flying back home in the airship.
"Gen'man t' see yo', Massa Tom," announced Eradicate, as he helped
Tom wheel the monoplane back into the shed.
"Is that so, Rad? Where is he?"
"Settin' in th' library. Yo' father am out, so I asted him in
dere."
"That's right, Rad. Who is he, do you know?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom, I doan't. He shore does use a pow'ful nice
perfume on his pocket hanky, though. Yum-yum!"
"Perfume!" exclaimed Tom, his mind going back to the day he had
had the trouble with Mr. Peters. "Is he a big, red-faced man,
Rad?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. He's a white-faced, skinny man."
"Then it can't be Peters," mused Tom. "I guess perhaps it's that
lawyer I wrote to about bringing suit to get back what it cost me
to have the Kilo fixed. I'll see him at once. Oh, by the way, it
isn't Mr. Grant Halling; is it? The gentleman who got tangled up
in our aerials with his airship? Is it he?"
"No, sah, Massa Tom. 'Tain't him."
"I thought perhaps he had gotten into more trouble," mused Tom, as
he took off his airship "togs," and started for the house. For Mr.
Halling had called for his repaired airship some time ago, and had
promised to pay Tom another and more conventional visit, some
future day.
Tom did not know the visitor whom he greeted in the library a
little later. The man, as Eradicate had said, was rather pale of
face, and certainly he was not very fleshy.
"Mr. Tom Swift, I think?" said the man, rising and holding out his
hand.
"That's my name. I don't believe I know you, though."
"No, I haven't your reputation," said the man, with a laugh that
Tom did not like. "We can't all be great inventors like you," and,
somehow, Tom liked the man less than before, for he detected an
undertone of sneering patronage in the words. Tom disliked praise,
and he felt that this was not sincere.
"I have called on a little matter of business," went on the man.
"My name is Harrison Boylan, and I represent Mr. Shallock Peters."
Instinctively Tom stiffened. Receiving a call from a
representative of the man against whom Mr. Damon had warned him
only a short time before was a strange coincidence, Tom thought.
"You had some little accident, when your motor boat and that of
Mr. Peters collided, a brief time ago; did you not?" went on Mr.
Boylan.
"I did," said Tom, and, as he motioned the caller to be seated Tom
saw, with a start, that some of the drawings of his photo
telephone were lying on a desk in plain sight. They were within
easy reach of the man, and Tom thought the sheets looked as though
they had been recently handled. They were not in the orderly array
Tom had made of them before going out.
"If he is a spy, and has been looking at them," mused Tom, "he may
steal my invention." Then he calmed himself, as he realized that
he, himself, had not yet perfected his latest idea. "I guess he
couldn't make much of the drawings," Tom thought.
"Yes, the collision was most unfortunate," went on Mr. Boylan,
"and Mr. Peters has instructed me to say--"
"If he's told you to say that it was my fault, you may as well
save your time," cut in Tom. "I don't want to be impolite, but I
have my own opinion of the affair. And I might add that I have
instructed a lawyer to begin a suit against Mr. Peters--"
"No necessity for that at all!" interrupted the man, in soft
accents. "No necessity at all. I am sorry you did that, for there
was no need. Mr. Peters has instructed me to say that he realizes
the accident was entirely his own fault, and he is very willing--nay,
anxious, to pay all damages. In fact, that is why I am here,
and I am empowered, my dear Mr. Swift, to offer you five hundred
dollars, to pay for the repairs to your motor boat. If that is not
enough--"
The man paused, and drew a thick wallet from his pocket. Tom felt
a little embarrassed over what he had said.
"Oh," spoke the young inventor, "the repair bill is only about
three hundred dollars. I'm sorry--"
"Now that's all right, Mr. Swift! It's all right," and the man,
with his soft words, raised a white, restraining hand. "Not
another word. Mr. Peters did not know who you were that day he so
unfortunately ran into you. If he had, he would not have spoken as
he did. He supposed you were some amateur motor-boatist, and he
was--well, he admits it--he was provoked."
"Since then he has made inquiries, and, learning who you were, he
at once authorized me to make a settlement in full. So if five
hundred dollars--"
"The repair bill," said Tom, and his voice was not very cordial,
in spite of the other's persuasive smile, "the bill came to three
hundred forty-seven dollars. Here is the receipted bill. I paid
it, and, to be frank with you, I intended bringing suit against
Mr. Peters for that sum."
"No need, no need at all, I assure you!" interrupted Mr. Boylan,
as he counted off some bills. "There you are, and I regret that
you and Mr. Peters had such a misunderstanding. It was all his
fault, and he wants to apologize to you."
"The apology is accepted," said Tom, and he smiled a trifle. "Also
the money. I take it merely as a matter of justice, for I assure
you that Mr. Peters's own machinist will say the accident was his
employer's fault."
"No doubt of it, not the least in the world," said the caller.
"And now that I have this disagreeable business over, let me speak
of something more pleasant."
Instinctively Tom felt that now the real object of the man's call
would be made plain--that the matter of paying the damages was
only a blind. Tom steeled himself for what was to come.
"You know, I suppose," went on Mr. Boylan, smiling at Tom, "that
Mr. Peters is a man of many and large interests."
"I have heard something like that," said Tom, cautiously.
"Yes. Well, he is an organizer--a promoter, if you like. He
supplies the money for large enterprises, and is, therefore, a
benefactor of the human race. Where persons have no cash with
which to exploit their--well, say their inventions. Mr. Peters
takes them, and makes money out of them."
"No doubt," thought Tom, grimly.
"In other cases, where an inventor is working at a handicap, say
with too many interests, Mr. Peters takes hold of one of his
ideas, and makes it pay much better than the inventor has been
able to do."
"Now, Mr. Peters has heard of you, and he would like to do you
good."
"Yes, I guess he would," thought Tom. "He would like to do me--and
do me good and brown. Here's where I've got to play a game
myself."
"And so," went on Mr. Boylan, "Mr. Peters has sent me to you to
ask you to allow him to exploit one, or several, of your
inventions. He will form a large stock company, put one of your
inventions on the market, and make you a rich man. Now what do you
say?" and he looked at Tom and smiled--smiled, the young inventor
could not help thinking, like a cat looking at a mouse. "What do
you say, Mr. Swift?"
For a moment Tom did not answer. Then getting up and opening the
library door, to indicate that the interview was at an end, the
young inventor smiled, and said:
"Tell Mr. Peters that I thank him, but that I have nothing for him
to exploit, or with which to form a company to market."
"Wha--what!" faltered the visitor. "Do you mean to say you will
not take advantage of his remarkable offer?"
"That's just what I mean to say," replied Tom, with a smile.
"You won't do business with Mr. Peters? You won't let him do you
good?"
"No," said Tom, quietly.
"Why--why, that's the strangest--the most preposterous thing I
ever heard of!" protested Mr. Boylan. "What--what shall I say to
Mr. Peters?"
"Tell him," said Tom, "tell him, from me, and excuse the slang, if
you like, but tell him there is--nothing doing!"