"I accept them," I said, pushing him away with distaste. "You may leave now, Mr. Eammer."
"Leave? Not until we've signed a contract, my friend. I want that invention."
"Mr. Eammer, that invention isn't perfected yet. I don't even know how it works. The principles are beyond me. It is something new in the world of physics and optics, and...."
"That's all right," he cried. "I'll give you six months. A year. More. But I want it...."
"No. I'm afraid I don't trust you," I said.
Far from being offended, he was delighted. He laughed as if I'd said something witty. "Of course you don't," he said. "You don't trust me and you don't like me. But just listen to my offer."
Right then and there Mr. Eammer made an offer that had my head swimming. He would, first of all, deposit in an account in my name the sum of one million dollars—free of taxes. Second, he would include in the contract a stipulation that I'd get fifty per cent of all royalties. Third—and very important to me—in the event that the patent he would apply for in my name was refused, or if it was broken by further research, I could keep the million dollars.
"And last," said Mr. Eammer, his nostrils flaring as he closed in for the kill, "I'll make your girl friend, Mary, a big movie star."
Mary's eyes widened. She clasped her hands before her, nervously. "Me?" she whispered. "B-but I can't act."