The stranger looked disappointed, but he didn’t say anything about it.
“You’re fortunate,” he told Mr. Tidd, “but maybe there’s something else I could do for you.”
“Not as I know of. Don’t seem like I needed a thing, but I’m much obliged, much obliged.”
“What is the nature of the work you are doing?” asked the man. I didn’t think he liked to come right out with the question that way, but probably he couldn’t invent any other way to get at it.
“It’s a turbine,” said Mr. Tidd, right off, and his eyes began to shine. “It’s a practical turbine for locomotives and automobiles and power-plants and what not. Why, sir, this engine of mine will stand on a base no bigger than a cook-stove and develop two hundred horse-power; and it will be reversible. I have a new principle, sir, for the application of steam; a new principle, it is—” He stopped suddenly, shook his head, and said, with a patient sort of smile, “My folks don’t like to have me talk too much about it.”
“Of course,” agreed the stranger, who had been leaning forward and edging farther toward the front of his chair, with interest. “Of course. It is never wise to discuss such things too freely. How far has your work progressed?”
“Not far, not far. In the experimental stages. I have something to show for my work—nothing to boast of, but enough. Enough to make me sure.”
“I should be very interested to look over your workshop,” suggested the stranger. “I always like to see how a thorough machinist has things arranged.”
At that I ducked and ran around the house, and just a moment later Mark came tiptoeing out of the kitchen door. He held up his finger for us to be still and then motioned for us to follow him to the barn.
In the barn he grabbed up a lot of drawings and stuffed them into my hands.