Luncheon was a meal of unexpected simplicity, served by a couple of trim waiting-maids in a magnificent apartment which overlooked the Hudson. Mr. Moreton was in high good-humour over his latest exploit, and they all indulged in speculations as to the nature of the stories which would appear in the evening editions. Underneath his hilarity, however, Lavendale more than once fancied that he noted signs of an immense tension. Sometimes, in the middle of a conversation, the great inventor would break off as though he had lost the thread of what he had been saying, and look uneasily, almost supplicatingly around him until some one supplied him with the context of his speech. Towards the end of the meal, after a brief silence, he turned with curious abruptness towards Lavendale. 'Say, you've come a long way to see nothing, young man,' he remarked. 'I have had the pleasure of meeting you, sir,' Lavendale replied politely, 'and, after all, I never believed the things they were saying in London.' 'What were they saying?' Mr. Moreton demanded brusquely. 'There was a report there when I left,' Lavendale answered, 'that you had learnt at last the secret of handling electricity by wireless, handling it, I mean, in destructive fashion.' 'Oh! they said that, did they?' Mr. Moreton observed, smiling to himself. 'To be absolutely exact,' Lavendale went on, 'they said that you had professed to discover it. A great scientific man whom I met only a few days before I left England, however--Sir Hubert Bowden--assured me that mine would be a wasted journey because the thing was impossible.' A suddenly changed man sat in Mr. Moreton's place. The unhealthy pallor of his skin was disfigured by dark red, almost purple patches. His eyes were like glittering beads. He struck the table fiercely with his hairy fist. 'Bowden is an ass!' he exclaimed. 'He is an ignorant numskull, a dabbler, a blind follower in other men's footsteps. Impossible to me--Moreton?' 'My dear! My dear!' his wife murmured anxiously from the other end of the table. The inventor turned to one of the servants. 'Telephone to the garage for the car to be here in ten minutes,' he ordered. 'I have had my little joke,' he went on, as the girl left the room. 'This afternoon we'll get to business.' His fury seemed to pass away as suddenly as it had come. He ate and drank nervously but with apparent appetite. As soon as the meal was over he commenced smoking a black cigar, and, excusing himself rather abruptly, left the room. 'Do you suppose,' Lavendale asked his hostess, 'that he is really going to give us a demonstration?' 'I don't know,' she answered uneasily. 'I wish I could get him somewhere right away from every one who talks about inventions and electricity. You put his back up, you know, Mr. Lavendale. He was quite all right before you handed him that sort of challenge.' 'I am sorry,' Lavendale murmured mendaciously.