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Updated: June 25, 2025
"I consider that I have the best right to it." "And my name does not appear?" "No, but " "You villain!" screamed Pericord. "You thief and villain! You would steal my work! You would filch my credit! I will have that patent back if I have to tear your throat out!" A sombre fire burned in his black eyes, and his hands writhed themselves together with passion.
Then the great flanges, the wires, and the metal box containing the motor were in turn attached to the girdle. Last of all a flat steel rudder, shaped like a fish's tail, was secured to the bottom of the sack. "We must make it travel in a small circle," said Pericord, glancing round at the bare high walls. "Tie the rudder down at one side," suggested Brown. "Now it is ready.
Long into the watches of the night the gleam of his lamps bore witness to the untiring energy and restless industry which was rapidly carrying him to the first rank in his profession. Within the chamber sat two men. The one was Pericord himself hawk-faced and angular, with the black hair and brisk bearing which spoke of his Celtic origin.
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.
Press the connection and off she goes!" Pericord leaned forward, his long sallow face quivering with excitement. His white nervous hands darted here and there among the wires. Brown stood impassive with critical eyes. There was a sharp burr from the machine. The huge yellow wings gave a convulsive flap. Then another. Then a third, slower and stronger, with a fuller sweep.
"It is registered," he said, with a forced laugh. "Registered?" said Pericord. "Registered?" He repeated the word first in a whisper, and then in a kind of scream. "Who has dared to register my invention?" "I did it this morning. There is nothing to be excited about. It is all right." "You registered the motor! Under whose name?" "Under my own," said Brown, sullenly.
"What then? One of us must do it." "Not at all. The motor would act equally well if attached to any inanimate object." "That is true," said Pericord, thoughtfully. "There are bricks by the barn. I have a sack here. Why should not a bagful of them take your place?" "It is a good idea. I see no objection."
Pericord journeyed backwards and forwards with all that they might need, while Brown filled a long narrow sack with bricks. When all was ready, the door of the barn was closed, and the lamp balanced upon an empty packing-case. The bag of bricks was laid upon two trestles, and the broad steel girdle was buckled round it.
Brown lay huddled up on the other side of the packing-case. Pericord seized him in his arms, and with convulsive strength lifted him across. Then the mystery of his silence was explained. He had fallen with his right arms doubled up under him, and his own weight had driven the knife deeply into his body. He had died without a groan. The tragedy had been sudden, horrible, and complete.
At one point, however, there shone out from three windows upon the second floor a rich flood of light, which broke the sombre monotony of the terrace. Passers-by glanced up curiously, and drew each other's attention to the ruddy glare, for it marked the chambers of Francis Pericord, the inventor and electrical engineer.
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