THE DEADLY RAY
Jim looked at his chum in astonishment.
“What do you mean?” he gasped.
“Who do you suppose are our worst enemies in this city just now?”
replied Joe, adopting the Yankee method of answering a question by
asking one. “Who is it that is most interested in having us downed, in
seeing the Giants lose the pennant?”
“Harrish and Tompkinson, I suppose,” answered Jim promptly. “They and
their gang stand to lose two hundred thousand dollars if we win.”
“Precisely,” agreed Joe. “Well, I saw them in the grandstand this
afternoon.”
“But what if you did?” replied Jim, somewhat disappointed at what
seemed an anti-climax. “They are there almost every day. I’ve seen the
scoundrels a dozen times since you had your mix-up.”
“Right enough,” admitted Joe. “In itself that stands for nothing. But
right behind them was sitting a man whom I know but you don’t. Did I
ever mention to you the incident of the old fellow who bumped into me
at the newsstand?”
“I don’t think you did,” returned Jim, wondering what his friend was
driving at.
Joe briefly sketched the happening.
“He’s a scientist of some kind,” he explained. “A scientific ‘nut’ or
‘bug’ I think the newsdealer called him. A few days later I saw him
looking at me from a window across the street. He stared at me stupidly
for a moment and then vanished behind the curtains.”
“Well,” remarked Jim perplexedly, “that simply shows that he was a
neighbor of ours.”
“Yes,” said Joe. “And that neighbor of ours bent over two or three
times this afternoon and whispered to the worst enemies we have. They
know each other. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Not necessarily,” answered Jim, in bewilderment. “A bit of a
coincidence, perhaps.”
“Let it go as that for a moment,” said Joe. “Now put your mind on this.
You and I live in the same rooms. Our favorite chair is in that bay
window of ours. The window is almost directly opposite that of the
old scientist, who, bear in mind, is evidently on friendly terms with
our worst enemies. I sit there and suddenly go to sleep, an unusual
thing in the day time. Shortly afterward I get knocked out of the
box. You sit there and go to sleep, also an unusual thing. Shortly
afterward you get knocked out of the box. Do you suppose that’s due to
coincidence?”
A light burst upon Jim.
“You think then,” he asked in a voice that fairly trembled with
excitement, “that that old scientist has been putting something over on
us?”
“Exactly,” replied Joe with conviction. “The facts fit into each other
like the blades of a pair of shears.”
“But――but――” stammered Jim, “how can he do it? It seems like witchcraft,
and the days of witchcraft are over.”
“True,” replied Joe. “But the days of science have just begun. Science
is working every day what in the old times would have been looked upon
as miracles. Look at the marvels of radio. Marconi would have been
burned at the stake as a wizard a few hundred years ago. Have you read
about that English scientist who has discovered what he calls the death
ray? It seems almost diabolical. He claims that by its use he can stop
airplanes in their flight, that he can sink ships, that he can demolish
fortifications, that he can kill a whole regiment at a stroke.
“Now those claims may be exaggerated, but it has been pretty well
proved in experiments that the ray will paralyze and sometimes kill
small animals, such as rabbits and guinea pigs, at quite a distance
away. It’s been done in the presence of spectators.”
“It’s an invention of Satan!” ejaculated Jim.
“Let it go at that,” replied Joe. “Now, just suppose that this old
scientist has developed something of this kind. Suppose he’s been hired
by Harrish and Tompkinson to turn it on us with the hope of spoiling
our pitching arms and so ruining the Giants’ chances for the pennant.”
“By Jove!” exclaimed Jim, “I believe you’re right. That would explain
everything, especially the tingling in our arms after we came out of
those mysterious sleeps. Joe, you’re a wonder.”
“Just a matter of putting two and two together,” deprecated Joe.
“Oh, if we could only prove it!” exclaimed Jim. “If we could only hang
it on those rascals what we would do to them would be plenty!”
“We’re going to try to prove it,” declared Joe. “We’ll match each other
to see who will be the goat. One of us will sit in that window in our
shirt sleeves to-morrow morning reading a paper. The other will take
that strong pair of field glasses of mine and go into the other room
and hide behind the curtains, leaving just space enough to see through
with the glasses. Then we’ll see what happens.”
Jim agreed eagerly. The matching decreed that he should be the one to
occupy the chair in the window while Joe from the other room would
bring the glasses to bear on the apartment across the street.
The sun was shining brightly the next morning as Jim carelessly settled
himself in the chair while Joe, behind the curtains in the adjoining
room, scanned the window opposite.
For some time nothing happened. But suddenly Joe noted a fluttering
of the curtains opposite. He saw the old scientist cast a crafty eye
across the street. In the shadows behind the old fellow Joe thought he
could discern the figures of two others.
Then a small table came into view on which was an oddly shaped
instrument with a small tube something like that of a camera.
As Joe watched it breathlessly a sharp flash darted from the tube,
quickly followed by others, until the instrument seemed to be spitting
a shower of sparks.
The mysterious ray was getting in its work!