CHAPTER XVIII
AN ANONYMOUS ADVERTISEMENT
“Well, they didn’t blow us up,” remarked Ned Newton to his chum the following morning after having awakened in the Swift home, having occupied the room next to his friend during the night.
“No, and I suppose we can be thankful for that,” agreed Tom. “But they might just as well have had a bomb under my bed for all the rest I got.”
“Didn’t you sleep well?” Ned wanted to know, though a look at his friend’s face was enough to tell the story. Tom’s eyes had dark half circles under them and it was plain that he had not rested enough.
“Hardly any,” was the answer. “This thing is getting on my nerves, Ned. I’ve got to do something!” and the voice was a bit irritable.
“Seems to me you’ve done a lot, Tom.”
“In what way?”
“Well, you’ve invented one of the most wonderful machines in the world—one that will make it possible for a man not only to sit at home in a comfortable chair and listen to the best music that’s played, but he can, by a turn of a switch, see theatrical plays. And, not only have you done that, but you’ve called the turn on the scoundrels who tried to stop you half way.”