Wallingford pondered seriously.
"You must have a good machine," he finally announced.
Mr. Klug thought that he was "being made fun of."
"It is a good machine. It's as good a machine as any they have got. There is no joke about it!"
"I'm not joking," Wallingford insisted. "Who are the people?"
Mr. Klug considered for a suspicious moment, but the appearance of this gentleman, the very embodiment of sterling worth, was most reassuring. Beneath that broad chest and behind that diamond scarf pin there could rest no duplicity. Moreover, Mr. Klug was still angry, and anger and discretion do not dwell together.
"The United Sales Recording Machine Company of New Jersey," he stated, rolling out the name with a roundness which betrayed how much in respect and even awe he held it.
Wallingford was now genuinely interested.
"Then you have a good patent," he repeated. "If they offered you three hundred dollars it is worth thousands, otherwise they would not buy it at any price. They have hundreds of patents now, and you have something that they have not covered."
"Four hundred and twelve patents they own," corrected Mr. Klug. "I have been over every one in the last six years, every little wire and bar and spring in them, and mine is a whole new machine, like nothing they have got. They have got one man that does nothing else but look after these patents. You know what he said? 'Yes, you have worked six years for a chance to hold us up. But we're used to it. It happens to us every day. If you think you can manufacture your machine and make any money, go at it.' He told me that!"