“And to me, also,” said Tom. “I don’t know what damage he has done, but——”
“He not do much!” chuckled Koku. “Me cotch him in time.”
And so it proved. Greenbaum had managed to sneak into the laboratory because vigilance was somewhat relaxed, now that all danger seemed over. He had cut one of the electrical wires that carried power to Tom’s machine, hoping, in the confusion he knew would follow, to be able to plant his infernal machine and get away. But the giant was too quick for him.
“Is the machine ruined?” asked Ned, coming from the broadcasting studio, followed by the other performers.
“Bless my apple pie! And just when I was going to sing my song!” complained Mr. Damon.
But a quick examination showed nothing more wrong than a severed wire, which was soon spliced, so that the machine could work again, and after Greenbaum had been handed over to the police, first needing the attention of a doctor, however, the interrupted performance went on to a successful conclusion.
When the little playlet was ended, and the men engaged by Mr. X and his colleagues had made their report, the leader of the theatrical interests announced:
“We are satisfied, Mr. Swift. The deal can go through. You will be paid the three million to-morrow and we will at once form a company for manufacturing these machines and put them on the market. But I am afraid you still feel that we sent Greenbaum here.”
“No,” Tom answered, “I have good reasons for knowing you did not.”
“What reasons?” asked Mr. X in surprise.