But he wouldn’t let me off so easily.
“Yes, of course you are going to say that the whole will be keyed together, and that the T-pattern nuts on a movable shank will be my method of attachment to the fixed portion next to the cam? Eh? So it is, but” (and here his eye brightened), “anyone could have arranged that. My particularity is that I have a freedom of movement even at the lowest speeds, and an accuracy of notation even at the highest, which is secured in a wholly novel manner ... and yet so simply. What do you think it is?”
I affected to look puzzled, and thought for a moment. “I cannot imagine,” said I, “unless——”
“No,” he interrupted, “do not try to guess it, for you never will. I turn the flange inward on a Wilkinson lathe and give it a parabolic section so that the axes are always parallel to each other and to the shaft.... There!”
I had no idea the man could be so moved: there was jubilation in his voice.
“There!” he said again, as though some effort of the brain had exhausted him. “It can’t be touched, mind you,” he added suspiciously; “I’ve taken out the provisional patents. There’s one man I know wants to fight it in the courts as an infringement on Wilkinson’s own patent, but it can’t be touched!” He shook his head decisively. “No! my lawyer’s certain of that—and so’m I!”
Here there was a break in his communications, so to speak, and he had apparently run out. It was not for me to wind him up again. I watched him with a sombre relief as he stood up again to full height, leaned his head back, and sighed profoundly with satisfaction and with completion. He folded up his specification and put it in his pocket again. He tore off the incomprehensible sketch he had made with his pencil while he was speaking, and put it by me on the mantelshelf. “You might like to keep it,” he said pathetically; “it’s a document, that is; it will be famous some day.” He looked at it lovingly, almost as though he was going to take it back again: but he thought better of it.
I was waiting, I will not say itching, for him to take his leave, when a god or demon, that same perhaps which had treated the poor fellow as a jest for a whole lifetime, inspired him to take a very false step indeed. He had already taken up his hat and was turning as though to go to the door, when the unfortunate thought struck him.
“What would you do?” he said.
“How do you mean?” I answered.