Certainly the one who did the talking did it well. He was a reporter from one of the Boston papers and had in view a story for the Sunday supplement. This recluse inventor had become quite a subject of remark in his near neighborhood, and something of general interest might be got out of it. Realizing from what he’d heard that Haworth would be a ticklish proposition to handle, he said nothing about the real object of his visit, but pretended instead that he wanted to buy one of his inventions. His talk was so earnest, so glib, so voluble, that Haworth was led into answering quite a lot of questions about his life, habits of work, etc., before he realized what he was doing, and altogether failed to notice that during this time the other chap (who was a photographer) was dodging about in different places, carrying a peculiar box-like affair in his hands. It was this latter that brought an abrupt end to the interview, for Haworth’s ear, trained to a hair on mechanical sounds, suddenly caught the click of a camera, and turning on the instant, he got a fleeting glimpse of the thing focused on him before the young man had time to drop it down. After a second’s pause he turned on his heel and went into the house, closing the door firmly, though not violently, behind him. The reporter chap was disappointed, as he had it laid out to see the inside and look over the inventions after they had the photographs taken. But with the pictures they had there was enough stuff to go on with, and he could do a bit of imaginary work for the interior. Three weeks—even working under forced draft as he did—was quick time in which to finish what Haworth had undertaken. He had one thing in his favor, though, which counted for not a little: the parts he had to get out were large and simple—heavy wooden shafts and levers, smooth-running pulleys with cords and weights, a great heavy pendulum with escapement device—parts like that, and all on a scale involving no complicated adjustments. Whatever lathe-work was necessary he managed on the small lathe—it was only the large one that had been sold. He had to rig it for foot power, but that was a comparatively simple matter. On an evening which was near to the end of this period of drastic toil, Haworth sent Mrs. Temple on an errand so that he could test his mechanism out. He found that with some minor changes and readjustments that took him, notwithstanding the furious drive he put into it, a day and a half longer, the device operated with certainty and precision. Mad to complete it as he was, he realized that it must be unerring in its performance. The slightest thing amiss or out of adjustment would not only have spelled disaster, but pronounced it. * * * * *