There was a relieved air about the men gathered in the old house on Rattlesnake Island now that Tom Swift had made terms with them. Truth to tell, they had been more than a little afraid of this clear-eyed, keen young man who was able to dictate terms to them.
“Now let there be no mistake about this,” said Tom. “We can draw up a new agreement, incorporating in it the terms of this one,” and he produced the rough draft in which the men had agreed to molest him no longer.
“What do you want put in?” asked Mr. X, producing paper and a fountain pen.
“I want this three-million-dollar offer for a half interest in my invention put into an ironclad agreement. I also want your written promise to interfere with me no longer.”
“We aren’t likely to bother you, considering that we are now associated with you in this thing,” observed Mr. B.
“Well, it will do no harm to put it in,” decided Tom. “Also, I want you to acknowledge full responsibility for the actions of your men, Greenbaum and the others, and your promise to send them far away from here.”
“That’s no more than fair,” agreed Mr. X. “Those men went further than we told them to do. We had no sympathy with Greenbaum’s attempt to blow you up and——”
“It was more than an attempt,” interrupted Tom, with a grim smile. “There really was a disastrous explosion and I expect to be paid damages for that out of your share of the profits. I want that in the agreement, too.”
“You shall have it,” promised Mr. X, though some of his colleagues made rather wry faces at Tom’s exaction of his “pound of flesh.” But he was within his rights, and he knew it.
In a short time the agreement was drawn up and signed by all of them, and then Mr. X remarked: