After lunch Mr. Peregrine asked if they would care to see his invention and try to ascertain what the trouble was with it.
“We can’t look it over too soon for me,” exclaimed Jack.
“I do hope you’ll be able to suggest something that will get me over the sticking point,” responded Mr. Peregrine, as the party donned their hats and, following him, made their way to the shed where stood the gun of which so much was expected.
The boys could hardly restrain their curiosity while Mr. Peregrine unlocked the door of the shed, which was furnished with quite an elaborate system of protection. Besides the heavy locks of a novel variety, it was fitted with a burglar alarm connecting with the house.
The door being opened, the boys saw a strange-looking piece of apparatus. Imagine a dull gray-colored submarine boat on wheels of solid steel with wide tires, and you have something of an idea of what they gazed upon. The cigar-shaped body of this odd vehicle was apparently of steel with riveted plates, and about twelve or thirteen feet in length. “Amidships,” so to speak, was a low sort of hood, pierced with slits. From the top of this projected a slender rod of steel tubing with a small, square, boxlike terminal on its top.
“But where does the gun part of it come in?” asked Jack, much mystified.
Mr. Peregrine smiled, and then, motioning to them to come closer, he indicated, what they had not before noticed, a break in the continuity of the “shell” of his invention. This was in the form of a band, completely encircling the diameter of the fore part of the machine. In two places in this band, at opposite points, appeared round openings.
“There,” said the inventor, pointing to this band and the two holes, “is the vital part of my invention. You see those holes?—yes—well, they are the muzzles of my vanishing guns.”
The group about the inventor nodded; but as yet they had only a very vague idea of the details of this strange invention.
“That slender shaft of tubing rising from the conning tower,” said Mr. Peregrine, who in his enthusiasm had lost his jerky manner of talking, “is nothing more nor less than a periscope; you know what that is, I presume.”