Part 25 (1/2)
”I am certain I can provide a mine within two days,” insisted Mr.
Johnson. ”Suppose we set the next test for Thursday night at this same hour?”
Thus trapped, Professor Bettenridge could not refuse without losing the sale. Scowling, he gave in.
”Very well. But this will be the final demonstration. If you are not satisfied Thursday night, the deal is off.”
”Agreed,” said Mr. Johnson.
Bowing to the Bettenridges, he departed. Others who had witnessed the demonstration began to melt away. Only Salt and Penny remained.
Professor Bettenridge closed the door so that the conversation would not be overheard. Then he turned angrily to the pair.
”Now what's your little game?” he demanded. ”You deliberately tried to queer my sale? Why?”
”Mr. Johnson seems like such an innocent little rabbit, maybe we thought he ought to be protected,” Salt drawled.
”Protected! Why, he's being given the opportunity of a lifetime! How much is it worth to you to keep out of my affairs?”
”Not a cent,” Salt retorted. ”We don't want any part of your deal. But there's something I did come here for--my camera.”
”I've already told the young lady I know nothing about it. If you were stupid enough to throw it into a pa.s.sing automobile, then you deserve to lose it. Now get out!”
Salt was tempted to argue the matter, but Penny took his arm, pulling him toward the door. The professor slammed it hard behind them as they went out into the night.
”That fellow is a crook!” Salt exploded. ”I'll bet a cookie he has my camera too!”
”Well, we can't prove it,” Penny sighed. ”After all, we did act in a high-handed way. We may have queered his sale to Mr. Johnson.”
”A good thing if we have.”
”But we have no proof the machine is a fake. With our own eyes we saw the mine explode. Of course, we think Webb tampered with it in some fas.h.i.+on, but we're not certain of that either.”
”The proof of the pudding will come Thursday night when and if the old boy explodes Mr. Johnson's mine.”
”He's just clever enough to do it, too,” Penny said gloomily.
The couple had walked only a short distance up the lane when they were startled to hear a shrill whistle in the darkness. It came from the beach.
Halting, they waited. In a moment the sound was repeated. Then to their surprise, came an answering whistle from inside Professor Bettenridge's cabin.
”That must be Webb,” Salt whispered, observing a shadowy form approaching. ”The whistle evidently is a signal to make certain the coast is clear.”
As they watched, the hunched figure emerged from the darkness, was silhouetted momentarily in the light which came from the cabin, then disappeared inside.
”I wish we knew what they were talking about in there,” Penny said. ”It might clear up some of the mystery.”
”Why not see what we can learn?” proposed Salt. ”It's safe enough.”
Taking care to walk softly, the pair stole back to the cabin. Crouching by the window, they could hear a low murmur of voices inside. At first it was difficult to catch the trend of the conversation, but gradually Professor Bettenridge's voice grew louder.