"We'll show you."
The men admitted him to their room, and carefully locked the door behind them. One of them struck a light, and in so doing dropped a match upon the floor. The other sprang upon it quickly, ground it out with his heel, and cursed him for his carelessness. Stephen Trimble looked about him, and saw that one end of the room was piled with boxes and tin cans, one of which was open, showing a compound slightly resembling maple sugar. A table stood before the low window, and on it was apparatus or machinery of some sort. The first man placed his candle on the table, and drew up a packing-box for Mr. Trimble to sit upon. There was no other furniture in the room.
"You do not live here?" said the inventor.
"No," replied the first man, who constituted himself the spokesman for both; "it isn't a sweet place to live in. We hire it as a workshop. You see, we are perfecting a sort of torpedo. You've heard of the submarine torpedoes that did such good service in blowing up the Turkish ships in the Russo-Turkish war?"
"Oh yes," replied Stephen Trimble, much interested. "I thought that stuff looked like dynamite! So you are inventing a new torpedo, which you mean to sell the Government? That's a good idea. They are thinking of increasing the navy, and it's always better to deal with the Government than with private individuals."
The silent man nudged his partner and remarked, "Yes, we're agoin' to deal with the Government. That's a good way to put it."
The other man made an impatient gesture, and proceeded to explain a small machine to Mr. Trimble. "You don't exactly understand my friend," he said, "but no matter. This kind of a torpedo isn't of the submarine kind; we pack the explosives here, matches here, friction paper just beside them; but just here we are stuck, and we need you or some other mechanic to show us how the thing can be set off by electricity, the operator to touch a button at a distance."
Mr. Trimble bent himself to an examination of the contrivance. He asked several questions, and as his scrutiny continued, his expression of satisfaction changed to one of mistrust and alarm. Suddenly he sprang from his seat and pushed the model from him. "That is an infernal-machine!" he exclaimed.
"That's about the long and the short of it," said the man, calmly.
"Then I will have nothing to do with it," and he turned toward the door.