On his part, in the laboratory room, Tom had adjusted the switches and stood near his machine. Ranged in a semicircle in front of him was the audience.
“Everything is ready, gentlemen,” said the young inventor in a low voice. “You will now see and hear what I have to offer.”
Suddenly, through the loud speaker, came the voices of the performers, as clear and distinct as though they were in the same room. There was no blasting effect, no tinny, horn-like element in the music.
A moment later the metallic glass screen attached to the apparatus glowed with a white light and before the eyes of the astonished gathering there appeared, in reduced form, but plainly and clearly, the images of the performers in a room several hundred feet away. Just as on a moving picture screen, only not as large, but beautifully colored and clearer than ever moving pictures had been, the images of Mary, Helen, Mr. Damon and Ned were observed. They smiled, gestured and went through various motions, not one of which was obscured and not one but synchronized exactly with the words they used.
“That’s my invention,” said Tom Swift simply. “If you think it is a success we can complete the deal.”
“I guess there’s no question of it,” said Mr. X. “I, for one, am satisfied and as soon as——”
He ceased speaking, for suddenly, in the midst of a song by the performers in the studio, the voices died away and the images faded from the screen.
“Don’t cut it off!” begged Mr. B. “I was just beginning to enjoy it.”
“I didn’t cut it off!” Tom answered quickly. “There’s something wrong!”
Then, from the corridor without, the voice of Koku was heard crying: