Tom called the room where Ned did his acting under the battery of electric lights his “broadcasting studio.” In a measure this was what it was, for vocal sounds and instrumental music were broadcast from it in the manner familiar to all who own a radio set.
But what Tom was trying to do, and which he found not at all easy, was to broadcast the sight of Ned and the song, making sight and sound synchronized. He wanted to perfect a radio receiver with an added apparatus by which, on a screen attached to the sounding cabinet, a person could view the person or persons doing the singing, dancing, or whatever form of activity was being presented.
This of course was not to be confounded with some moving and “talking” pictures, which are a combination of films and phonograph records, working simultaneously. By Tom’s machine, when perfected, one would be enabled to see and hear an actual theater play, a complete vaudeville show, or even a complete operatic performance.
When Ned finished his financial work he went to the studio and there he remained until far into the night while Tom, in his laboratory, watched the metallic glass screen and changed and adjusted switches, eliminators, tubes and different forms of electrical currents, endeavoring to capture not only Ned’s voice but his image.
“Well, how did it go, Tom?” asked Ned, coming to the laboratory after a bell signal told him work for the night was over.
“Somewhat better, I’m glad to say. I could see you much more plainly. Your voice was very clear. It’s only the vision apparatus that needs improving. How did you make out?”
“Oh, I don’t mind it. But why did you send some one to look through the windows at me?”
“Look through the windows at you?” exclaimed Tom. “I didn’t! You must be dreaming!”
“Indeed, I’m not. Two or three times, while I was singing and dancing, I saw faces peering in at me. I thought you had some men checking up.”
“No, indeed!” cried Tom. “Ned, I believe the spies are at work again!”