“What do you mean, Dad?”
“I mean that perhaps some one, or perhaps a number of persons, don’t want this new invention to succeed. Think what it will mean to the moving picture industry if you can give people in their own homes entertainment such as the big theaters present. And where will the theaters come out if their high-priced shows can be picked up by every one who buys one of your machines?”
“That’s their lookout,” said Tom. “It was said that the radio would kill the phonograph; and it nearly did, but the phonograph folks came back strong.”
“This is different, Tom.”
“Yes, I know it is—different and better. No, I’m not going to back out, bombs or no bombs! Besides, Dad, you must realize that we are in this thing pretty deep.”
“Deep, Tom? What do you mean?”
“I mean we have a large amount of money tied up in this thing—more than I like to think about. I’ve just got to come through with it to break even.”
“Well, Tom, I suppose you know best,” said the aged inventor, with rather a weary smile. “But be careful of yourself.”
When Mrs. Baggert had put new bandages on some of Tom’s burns and he had taken a little rest, he called up Ned’s home, only to learn that no word had come from him. His parents were greatly worried, for Ned was not selfish and was not the kind of young man to remain long away from home without sending word.
“He may have decided to take a little unannounced vacation,” Tom told Mr. Newton, “and have gone to the country. He may have sent word and the letter or the message has failed to arrive. Shall I notify the police?”