“Then you will unmask, after all?” inquired Tom. “No, but we will tell you what interests we represent—if you have not already guessed it.” “I think I can guess,” stated Tom. “You are a big syndicate of moving picture operators.” “The guess does credit to your intelligence, Tom Swift,” said Mr. X. “We represent many large moving picture and theatrical interests of the United States, and we are frank to say that we see ruin ahead of us if your invention goes on the market uncontrolled, at least in part, by our interests. I admit that your invention may revolutionize our industry. If a man can sit in his own home and listen to a radio program, and, at the same time, see the performers, he certainly won’t put on a starched shirt and a stiff collar and pay from two to seven dollars for a seat in the theater.” “And he won’t even come to a fifty cent movie!” lamented Mr. B. “True enough,” agreed Mr. X. “You seem to know something of my affairs,” said Tom, with a rueful smile. “You have not missed much.” “We know more than you think we do,” boasted Mr. X. “At the same time we realize that you are far from beaten, so we wish to suggest a compromise.” “We are going to make you a handsome offer!” broke in Mr. B, much to the evident annoyance of his colleague. “You will be tempted by it, I am sure. In short——” “I thought I was to do the talking,” interrupted Mr. X. “That’s right. Let him do it,” put in two others of the masked men. Each looked like a hard-headed American business man. “I’ll listen to any offer you wish to make,” Tom stated. “I came here prepared to make an offer myself. But I will first listen to yours.” He could not help admitting that the men knew more than he had suspected. In spite of the fact that he had tried to keep his invention a secret, the general principle of it had become known to these theatrical and moving picture men. Doubtless they had paid their spies and plotters well. “To get down to business,” resumed Mr. X, “we are prepared to offer you a million dollars, Tom Swift. A million dollars!” he repeated unctuously. “Think of that, my friend!” broke in Mr. B, who could not keep still. “A whole million!” His voice capitalized the word. “All your own to do as you like with! A million dollars! Think of it!” CHAPTER XXII FLASHING LIGHTS GRAVE though the situation was, Tom Swift could not help smiling a little at the evident sincerity and anxiety of Mr. B. Nor were the others less vitally interested. They leaned forward over the table, staring at Tom’s face, which was in the full glare of a powerful light. They wanted to see if Tom would give under the strain. But the young inventor held himself well in hand. Though he was not quite prepared for the offer, it did not catch him napping. He still had some cards to play. “Well,” asked Mr. X, slowly, when there had been a few seconds of silence following his offer, “what do you say?”