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Updated: June 27, 2025
Then Pericord threw his long arms up into the air. "It acts!" he cried. "The Brown-Pericord Motor acts!" He danced about like a madman in his delight. Brown's eyes twinkled, and he began to whistle. "See how smoothly it goes, Brown!" cried the inventor. "And the rudder how well it acts! We must register it tomorrow." His comrade's face darkened and set.
Pericord sat silently on the edge of the case, staring blankly down, and shivering like one with the ague, while the great Brown-Pericord Motor boomed and hurtled above him. How long he sat there can never be known. It might have been minutes or it might have been hours. A thousand mad schemes flashed through his dazed brain. It was true that he had been only the indirect cause.
"The motor which you thought of, and which I reduced to practice call it what you like." "I call it the Brown-Pericord Motor," cried the inventor with an angry flash of his dark eyes. "You worked out the details, but the abstract thought is mine, and mine alone." "An abstract thought won't turn an engine," said Brown, doggedly.
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