Chapter 17 Tom Swift and His Talking Pictures by Victor Appleton
USELESS PLEADINGS
Tom Swift was profoundly disturbed by the momentous discoveries that had taken place around the Swift Construction Company’s plant. He did not believe it possible, with all his precautions, that so deep and dangerous a plot could have been brought so near to fruition as it had been.
“Well?” asked Ned remindingly.
“Oh!” and Tom appeared to come out of a disagreeable reverie. “Well, there are several things that must be done, Ned. In the first place we must take newer and better precautions to keep these rascals out.”
“That’s plain enough.”
“Then the next thing to do is to go ahead with this thing and push it to a conclusion.”
“You mean the talking-picture machine?”
“That’s it. After that we’ll consider what is next to be done. But you and Mr. Damon had better be getting ready,” and Tom smiled for the first time since Eradicate had given him the threatening note that proved to be such a timely warning.
“Ready for what?” Ned wanted to know.
“For the performance you are to give for the benefit of Mary, Helen, and the other visitors. They’ll be here soon. It’s getting late.”
“Do you mean, in the face of what happened, that you’re going to put on a program of songs and dances?” asked Ned, in astonishment.
“Why not?” Tom questioned. “Nothing really happened. There was no blowing up of the plant.”
“No, but it came mighty close to it. We don’t know what hour those fellows set for attaching the detonator to the ends of the wires, and then it would have been a skyrocket trip for us.”
“Yes, but it didn’t happen,” insisted Tom, with another smile. “ ‘A miss is as good as a mile,’ you know. We’re safe and sound. We are well guarded now and I want to see if my machine will do what I hope it will.”
“Very well,” assented Ned, with a shake of his head. “On with the dance, let Mr. Damon and myself be unconfined. I’m game if you are, Tom.”
“Bless my dominoes, so am I!” added the odd man.
“There really is no danger now,” Tom insisted. “I’m not saying but what the scoundrels may try it again. But, for the time being, we are safe. It’s just as it is after a hard thunder storm,” he went on. “There’ll be no danger from the lightning for some time.”
“You may be right there,” agreed Ned. “Well, come on, Mr. Damon. We’ll do our part to make the entertainment a success.”
Shortly after this Mary Nestor and her parents arrived in answer to the invitation Tom had sent them, and they were followed soon by Helen Morton, whom Ned greeted with a warm smile.
“But what’s going on?” Mary wanted to know of Tom. “We were stopped two or three times on our way through your grounds and made to show the passes you sent us. What’s the cause? Is it war?”
“Something like that,” admitted Tom. “We’re having a little trouble with some men who don’t like what I’m doing. But I think the worst is over.”
Then, not telling what danger he and Ned had been in, Tom Swift gave his friends a brief description of the new talking-picture machine and prepared them for what they were going to see.
Mary, Helen and their parents took their seats in the laboratory with Mr. Swift and Tom, while Ned and Mr. Damon went to the broadcasting studio, there to don their red and violet robes. Tom had not yet succeeded in making it possible to render sharp and clear performers attired in garments of other colors or combination of colors, though he hoped, by the use of filter screens, to bring this about later.
Eradicate and another man were instructed to keep strict guard on all approaches to the broadcasting room while the performance was going on. Koku, armed with a big club, and another man with a gun were stationed outside the private laboratory. But Tom did not have Koku and the other guard stationed until Mary and the others were in the room, so the visitors did not see these warlike preparations.
The switches were turned, the wires hummed, the tubes glowed with their strange lights and the black screen became milky white. Then, as over the loud speaker, came the words of the song rendered by Ned and Mr. Damon in the distant room, there also appeared very plain images of the two performers. The transmission was the best Tom had ever succeeded in producing.
“Why, Tom, it’s wonderful!” exclaimed Mary.
“Marvelous!” echoed Helen.
“Finest thing I ever saw!” declared Mr. Nestor. “If you’re selling stock in this, Tom, put me down for a good subscription.”
“Same here!” added Mr. Morton. “It’s going to be epoch-making, Tom Swift.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of—it’s too epoch-making,” said Mr. Swift, but he did not explain what he meant nor did his visitors ask. They were too much interested in listening to and looking at Ned Newton and Mr. Damon.
Ned’s earlier description of the odd man’s performance was fully borne out by what happened. At one time Ned had to quit from sheer exhaustion in laughing, but Mr. Damon went on alone, singing, dancing, improvising, telling jokes and funny stories until he had his unseen audience in gales of laughter.
“Well, Tom, how was it?” asked Ned, when the performance was over and they were all together again.
“Very good! But it must be better yet. I don’t want to limit the performers to red and violet robes. But I have thought of a simple method of getting around that. Color filters, such as are used in printing photography, will do the trick. I’m not worried about that.”
The little laboratory was rather close and stuffy, so the door leading into the hall was opened for air. Mary looked out. She screamed, and turned quickly toward Tom.
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom instantly. “Is there—” He thought Greenbaum might be trying some other trick.
“Why is Koku armed with that big club and the other man with a gun?” asked Mary suspiciously. “Is there some danger? Oh, Tom——”
The memory of the kidnapping of the two young men came vividly into her mind.
“There’s danger—terrible danger!” exclaimed Helen. “I can tell by the boys’ faces,” she added, looking from Tom and Ned to Mary. “They are trying to hide it from us; but there’s danger, and I know it.”
As Ned remarked later, “the beans were spilled then and there,” and though he and Tom tried to put the girls and their parents off, there was no denying that something unusual was afoot. The upshot of it was that the whole story of the buried mines came out.
“Tom, you’ve got to give this thing up!” urged Mary, taking him by the arm. “It’s a wonderful invention, undoubtedly, but it isn’t worth your life, nor Ned’s. You must give it up! Let those men have it to destroy if they want to.”
“Never!” cried Tom. “I’m going through with it.”
Then followed earnest but useless pleadings on the part of the young ladies and their parents. Seeing how firm Tom was, Helen and Mary turned their attention to Ned, seeking to get him to prevail upon his chum to cast the invention aside. But Ned was as firm as his friend.
“No, I’m going ahead with it no matter what comes!” was Tom’s final decision. “But I’m going to set a trap for these scoundrels and I think I’ll catch them. The talking-picture machine must be perfected, in spite of these fellows. But they’ll find two can play at the same game. I’m going to set a trap!”
Somewhat reassured by Tom’s confident manner, the girls and their parents felt better, though they could not shake off the fear that something would happen. Nor was Tom as easy in his mind as he seemed.
There were refreshments after the demonstration, which had been a success in spite of the excitement preceding it, and then Tom and Ned took the girls home, their parents having gone on ahead.
“Well, Tom,” remarked Ned when the two young men were on their way back to the laboratory to make sure it was carefully locked and guarded for the night, “I thought, once, that Mary was going to prevail on you to give it up.”
“Not in a hundred years! I’m going through with it. Why, I’ve got to or face ruin of another sort.”
“You mean financially?”
“Yes. You know how much money I’ve got tied up in this machine. It’s all we could beg or borrow or spare from my other ventures. If I scrapped it now, all that cash would be lost. As it is, if I go on and put the machine on the market, I stand a chance to get it back with a profit.”
“Yes, I suppose so. The banks have begun to ask questions. I guess it’s sink or swim from now on.”
“But we’re going to swim!” declared Tom Swift, with a confident smile. “Give me an even break, and I’ll beat those fellows at their own game!”
“I hope you do, Tom. But what sort of trap are you going to set?”
“Tell you in the morning. I want to sleep over it,” and with that Tom turned into the house.