"I am not trying to frighten you—I warn you."
"Your warning is useless. I reply to you in all seriousness that neither my life, nor my daughter's life—no, nor the lives of a thousand like us!—would persuade me to put this power in your hands. But you dare not kill me. In this brain, and there alone, is the great secret."
"You forget," Pachmann reminded him, "that in your baggage is a complete machine. We do not really need you."
At the words, Vard burst into a shout of mad laughter. Pachmann watched him, and his face fell into haggard lines.
"So that is it!" jeered the inventor, when he had got his breath. "So that is the great plot! Well, Pachmann, to that I answer, 'Checkmate!' Go, get the baggage! You are welcome to all you find there!"
"You mean the machine is not there?" demanded Pachmann, thickly.
"Just that!"
"Where is it then?"
Gazing into his adversary's bloodshot eyes, Vard had another burst of strangling laughter.
"I have already told you," he said. "In this brain—there alone—there alone!" His face was red now, strangely red, and his words were queerly jumbled.