Charles Beale - The Secret of the Earth

"She didn't mention any particular day, but only remarked that gentlemen usually paid in advance, but that as we were Americans – "

"I see, as we were not gentlemen, but Americans, she'd wait till she got it. What do you think under the circumstances we'd better do? Remember that a couple of hundred dollars for two men to live upon until they find work in a city like this, isn't exactly wealth. Remember also the saying about a fool and his money. Now what shall we do about the landlady?"

"Pay her," I said without hesitation.

"But when?"

"Now! Give her a couple of weeks in advance, and then if we want a couple more on credit, it will be easier to get it."

We decided that Torrence should take what funds we had, and in his off-hand, plausible manner, make the payment agreed upon. He had a wonderful way of impressing people with the idea that money was of no importance to him. When the settlement was made, I was glad he had done it, it being evident that Mrs. Twiteham was impressed. I make a note of these trivial circumstances to show our actual condition, as well as for future reference should it ever be needed.

This little transaction disposed of, we sauntered out into the street to look after breakfast, which we found in a neighboring restaurant. The voyage had sharpened our appetites, and we ate a dollar's worth of food in an alarmingly short space of time, an extravagance we agreed should not be repeated. After breakfast, however, we felt that having started the day so liberally, it would hardly be fair to "clip off the corners of a square meal," as Torry declared, by slighting its proper ending, and so we bought a couple of large cigars, and then climbed on top of one of those great omnibuses with three horses, to seek our fortunes.

It is singular how indifferent men will sometimes be to expenses with the narrowest margin separating them from starvation, and yet how parsimonious they often become with untold wealth at their disposal; and in each instance their better judgment will condemn the course pursued.

My brother's air ship had been for years upon the verge of success. A fortune had been already spent upon it, and his friends had grown distrustful. It was always a trifle that was needed to perfect the mechanism, which was doubtless a triumph of inventive genius. It is not my purpose to describe the machine, in fact it would be impossible for me to do so, being neither a mechanic nor a scientist, but I will simply say that it was built of aluminum; shaped like an exaggerated cartridge sharpened at both ends and supported in the air by the application of an extraordinary discovery which neutralized the attraction of gravitation, and propelled by a horizontal screw beneath, which could be made to revolve at such enormous speed that the effect of the most violent hurricane was practically inoperative. As yet, only models had been made of the machine, the design being too intricate and costly to admit of a full sized apparatus until every detail had been mastered; but his last model had flown, and come so near perfection, that an English gentleman had written to him about it, offering assistance under certain conditions. This offer might never have been considered, were it not for the disaffection of his patrons about that time, but as it was, we left America at once.

The business firm that we were seeking was that of Wetherbee & Hart, No. 3 Kirby Street. As the omnibus carried us through the crowded thoroughfares, it was plain that Torrence was growing uneasy. Things had looked promising in the distance, but as the time approached for an interview, we began to realize the consequences of a failure to elicit Wetherbee's interest. Should he refuse to aid us we could see nothing but the poorhouse ahead.

On leaving the 'bus, we had a short distance to walk, and it is safe to say that we were lost in less than five minutes. The multiplicity of ways and their labyrinthic character, was confusing to our rectangular conception of a town, and after a number of fruitless efforts we found ourselves back at the corner from which we had started. But perseverance finally conquered, and we stood facing a doorplate which read: "Wetherbee & Hart, Inventors and Solicitors of Patents." At that moment I was so oppressed by the thought of the pending interview that I wished we were lost again.

Walking up a narrow flight of stairs, we stood before a glass door with a blue paper shade screening the interior. There was no mistake; we were there at last, for the firm's name was painted in sprawling letters over the panel. The outward appearance was not indicative of wealth, and our hearts sank. There was an old-fashioned bell pull, in the absence of electricity, and I rang. A boy came to the door with many brass buttons sewed on to a dirty coat, and Torrence inquired if Mr. Wetherbee was in.

"No, sir, but Mr. Hart is here," answered the boy.

It was a disappointment, no letters having ever passed between my brother and the gentleman named. We decided to go in, however, and having given our cards to the boy, passed in to an ante-room.

The place was scant of furniture, and had a poverty-stricken look. Two large tables were covered with models, while the walls were whitewashed and hung with mechanical drawings. As there were no chairs, we stood, and as we had not finished our cigars, continued to smoke. The sound of a deep, pompous voice proceeded from an inner chamber, presumably the sanctum of the proprietors. Presently the owner of the voice entered. He was a man with bushy eyebrows and a square chin.

"Well, gentlemen, what can I do for you?" he asked magnificently.

We were so taken aback that neither of us knew exactly what he could do. I believe Torry thought of asking him if he could turn a handspring in a half-bushel measure, a feat he had once seen performed at a circus, but something in my manner must have stopped him. I waited for Torrence to answer respectfully, the man evidently being accustomed to inspire not only respect but awe. My brother, however, took his time, and after a couple of pulls on his cigar, he said, without moving from the place where he stood:

"Mr. Hart, I presume!"

"Yes, I am Mr. Hart. Do you wish to see me?"

"Well, rather!" answered Torrence. "I've come all the way from America to see you: or I should say your partner, Mr. Wetherbee."

Hart coughed, and waved his hand a couple of times at an imaginary cloud of smoke.

"I must ask you to stop smoking. It is contrary to our rules," he observed querulously.

"Certainly!" answered Torrence, throwing his cigar stump upon the tiled floor and stepping on it. There was no receptacle provided for such things, and the floor looking as dirty as the street, I followed his example.

Hart called for the buttons, and directed him to pick up the stumps and throw them in the grate in the next room. The boy did as he was bid, and passed back into the sanctum.

"It was a matter of business," I began, observing that things looked squally, and dreading the consequences of an unfavorable impression, at the very beginning of our interview. "It was in relation to my brother's air ship that we came, and – "

"And what, pray, do you mean by an air ship?" demanded Hart, with a look of supercilious superiority that was more exasperating than withering.

"I supposed you must have heard of it," I ventured to observe.

"Heard of an air ship! The idea is preposterous!" he exclaimed.

"And yet," said Torrence, "I have one, which your partner, Mr. Wetherbee, is anxious to investigate, and perhaps to purchase, as I have been led to believe."

"That is impossible!" cried Hart, holding his chin higher, and adding to his general offensiveness. "Wetherbee is a man of sense – and – the thing is absurd!"

He turned half around on his heel as if about to leave us, but my brother's quiet, well-possessed manner deterred him.