Part 21 (1/2)
”I want more mirrors. The ones I'm using aren't perfect. I must have others.”
”The ones you have,” said Gorman, ”are good enough for the present.
When we get a bit further on and see how this business is going to be managed, we may get you other mirrors.”
”Very well,” said Tim, ”I'll ask Ascher for the money. He'll give it to me. I'd have asked him a week ago only you made me promise not to take any more money from him without telling you.”
”If you take money from Ascher,” said Gorman, ”he'll simply collar your whole invention. You'll find in the end that it will be his, not yours.
He'll get every penny that's made out of it, and then he'll tell you that you owe him more than you can pay. I've told you all along that that's what will happen if you go borrowing from Ascher.”
”I don't care,” said Tim, ”so long as I get it perfected I don't care what happens.”
”d.a.m.n!” said Gorman.
There was some excuse for him. Tim's att.i.tude was hopelessly unpractical.
”Don't you see,” said Tim, ”that this is a wonderful thing? It's one of the greatest things that any one has done for a long time. It's a new thing.”
The note of weak obstinacy which was in his voice when he first spoke had died out of it. He was pleading with his brother as a child might beg for something from a grown-up man.
”That's exactly what I do see,” said Gorman.
”Then why won't you let me perfect it? It doesn't matter--sure, you know yourself, Michael, that it doesn't matter what happens if only I get it right.”
I thought for a moment that the boy was going to cry. He pulled himself together with a sort of choked sob and then suddenly flashed into a rage.
”I will ask Ascher for the money,” he said. ”I will, I will. d.a.m.n you, Michael! I'll give it all to Ascher, everything I have. Everything I ever invent. I'll tell him all I've found out. I'll make it his.”
Then with another swift change of mood the boy turned to me and began to plead again.
”Tell him to give me the money,” he said. ”Or make him let me ask Ascher for it. He'll do it if you speak to him. I don't want to quarrel with Michael. I don't want to do anything he says is wrong. But I must have that money. Don't you see I must? I can't get on without it?”
”Listen to me, Tim,” I said; ”if I give you the 100 you want----”
”I could manage with 100,” said Tim. ”But it would be much better if I had 150.”
”A hundred,” I said, ”and no more. If I give it to you, will you promise to bring that apparatus of yours up to London and exhibit your results to a few friends of mine there?”
”Yes, I will. Of course I will. May I order the new mirrors to-morrow and say that you'll pay for them?”
”You may. But remember----”
”Oh, that will be all right,” said Tim. ”As soon as ever it is perfected----”
”Perfect or imperfect,” I said, ”you've promised to show it off when I ask you to.”
Gorman and I drove home together. At first he would do nothing except grumble about his brother's childish obstinacy.
”Can't understand,” he said, ”how any man with brains can be such a fool.”