"Yes, sir."

Byres was obsequious as he came in front of Tressler's chair.

"That package that came today." Tressler's tone was quizzical. "You placed it in the demonstration room, did you not?"

"Beside the tank, sir. As you ordered. You remember, sir, that you left the door unlocked."

"Very well. Stay in the penthouse, Byres. I expect a visitor to come here this evening."

"Yes, sir."

Tressler continued his smoking after the secretary had gone. The panatella dwindled. It became a mere stump. Tressler tossed it in an ash stand. He arose and turned toward the broad doorway that led to thepenthouse. Just then Wilton Byres appeared.

"The visitor is here, sir," informed the secretary. "Mr. Bigelow Zorman, from South Sh.o.r.eview -"

"Very excellent," interposed Tressler. "Bring him to the demonstration room, Byres. I shall see him there."

The secretary departed. Tressler walked slowly along the pa.s.sage. He came to the door of the room where he had taken Maurice Bewkel. He entered. He noted a large box beside the tank in the center of the room. He turned as he heard approaching footsteps.

BYRES was ushering a short, rotund gentleman into the room. The arrival smiled, with beaming expression upon his fat, friendly face. He advanced with extended hand to greet Felix Tressler. The newcomer was Bigelow Zorman, president of the Electro Oceanic Corporation.

Greetings completed, Tressler pointed his visitor to a chair. He swung toward the door and noted Byres still standing there. He spoke to the secretary.

"All right, Byres." Tressler's tone was brusque. "I shall call you when I need you."

As the secretary nodded and stepped down the pa.s.sage, Tressler advanced and closed the door. He turned back and took a chair beside Zorman. Both men were facing the tank. They did not see the motion of the door behind them.

Wilton Byres had returned. Again, the secretary was eavesdropping, as he had on the occasion of Maurice Bewkel's visit.

"I have much to tell you, Mr. Tressler." Zorman's tone was solemn. "It concerns the death of Maurice Bewkel. Most unfortunate! Most unfortunate!"

"It was," agreed Tressler. "I saw Bewkel the night before he died. He was concerned about his option.

He wondered how affairs were with Electro Oceanic. In fact, he told me that he had sent an investigator to South Sh.o.r.eview -"

"He had," broke in Zorman. "A man named Dustin Cruett. I talked with Cruett when he was in South Sh.o.r.eview. The man had come up here to report to Bewkel."

"But he dropped dead," remarked Tressler, "before he had an opportunity to see Bewkel."

"Cruett?" Zorman's tone was wild. "Dead? Like Bewkel? Before Bewkel?"

Tressler nodded.

"This is serious!" exclaimed Zorman. "Mr. Tressler, it convinces me that Bewkel's death was not an accident! I see a terrible plot - an undercover plot to -"

"Tell me all," suggested Tressler, "from the beginning. Then, perhaps, I may understand your apprehensions.

BIGELOW ZORMAN settled back in his chair. He puffed nervously at the cigar that he was smoking.

His rotund face could not conceal the worriment that he felt.

"Electro Oceanic," began Zorman, "was a speculative proposition from the start. Its purpose was to produce and install wave motors, such as the model which you have in your tank, here. The Company was well capitalized, and I accepted the presidency. The actual management, however, rested with PerryHarton, who was stationed in South Sh.o.r.eview."

"I have met Harton," nodded Tressler.

"The company," a.s.serted Zorman, "was extravagantly run. Wave motors were built. The costs, however, were exorbitant. That was to be expected. But when I learned that the efficiency of the motors was too low to produce commercial results, I went to South Sh.o.r.eview to take charge."

"So I understand."

"Our only hope," continued Zorman, "lay in the development of an improved wave motor. Such a device had been created by experiments at the plant. The place was closed, so far as actual production was concerned.

"I questioned Perry Harton. He told me that the new motor was not yet perfected. Hence he was keeping it a secret until later. I insisted that I see the device. He showed me models. I put them to the test. And the results were most gratifying.

"Tressler, the new motor is a success! I cannot understand why Harton was keeping it for the future. His only excuse was that he wanted large ones built and installed as a final test; and that funds for such building were not available."

"Good reasons at that," a.s.serted Tressler.

"Yes," admitted Zorman, "but events proved differently. Shortly after I had tested the new models, Dustin Cruett arrived in South Sh.o.r.eview. He came to me for a confidential interview. In our talk, he stressed certain important facts.

"Cruett told me that he represented Maurice Bewkel. He said that Bewkel was ready to exercise an option; to buy shares valued at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The proviso was the future possibilities of the wave motors.

"I suddenly observed a plot. I saw a reason for Perry Harton's delay. If the new motor were kept secret, Bewkel would forego his option. The funds that we required would not be available."

"Quite obvious," agreed Tressler.

"That is why I gave Dustin Cruett specific information," resumed Bigelow Zorman. "I suspected that Perry Harton had gone crooked; but I gave no inkling of such knowledge. I decided that if Maurice Bewkel could be induced to exercise his option, others would do the same. With Bewkel's funds injected as a starter, we could begin work on the improved motors."

"An excellent idea, Mr. Zorman."

"Yesterday," announced Zorman, in an awed tone, "I saw a newspaper report of Maurice Bewkel's death. I realized that his sudden demise had ended his option. I suspected foul play - murder, when all else had failed!

"I said nothing of my suspicions. Instead, I realized that drastic action must be taken. I decided that I would privately visit the other option holders and convince them of the practicability of the new wave motor. Also" - Zorman's tone was solemn - "I knew that I must warn them of impending danger."

FELIX TRESSLER frowned. This talk of death seemed to disturb him. Bigelow Zorman observed the millionaire's troubled expression. "I left South Sh.o.r.eview," informed Zorman, "and I brought a model of the new wave motor with me. It is in that box, which I ordered delivered here when I called you this afternoon."

Again Tressler nodded.

"It was my desire," added Zorman, "to have Channing Rightwood, the third option holder, meet with us.

Unfortunately, Rightwood is in Chicago. I wired him and received a reply. He is coming to New York."

"You arranged for an interview?"

"More than that. In my wire I stated that the option must be exercised at all costs. From Rightwood's reply, I am satisfied that he will take my advice."

Felix Tressler nodded slowly as Bigelow Zorman paused. The corporation president leaned forward and made his next statement with added emphasis.

"Rightwood's option precedes yours," he declared. "Tonight, however, I shall convince you that, like Rightwood, you must exercise your option. This tank, with its model wave motor, is all that I need for my demonstration."

"You mean -"

"That the new model will show its merits. But before I open the box, I would like to test the old one which is now installed."

"Proceed," agreed Tressler.

Bigelow Zorman arose. He went to the electric motor at the end of the tank. He threw the switch. A buzz sounded; the water in the tank began to churn and swell. Back and forth, lengthwise in the tank, the water rose and fell in waves.

Each forward action of the artificial waves brought a response from the paddle-wheeled device in the center of the tank. The blades moved slowly, creating power as they turned. At the far end of the tank, a row of bulbs were stationed beside an indicator.

Zorman walked in that direction. He pressed a switch. The first bulb lighted; then the second. That was all. The pointer on the indicator moved slightly past the number twenty. Bigelow Zorman turned to Felix Tressler.

"That represents the maximum efficiency of the old-style motor," he declared. "It tests exactly like those at the plant in South Sh.o.r.eview."

"I have tested it," acquiesced Tressler. "Twenty is insufficient. What can the improved motor do?"

Zorman smiled. He went back and turned off the electricity. He drew a key from his pocket and opened a padlock on the box that stood beside the tank. Straining, he lifted out another motor, different from the one in the tank.

While Tressler watched, Zorman stooped above the tank and removed the old-style motor from the fastenings which held it. He inserted the new device; then turned on the electricity. Churning commenced; then regular waves.

"Look!"

Zorman's tone was triumphant. Lights began to appear, one by one, until the row of ten was illuminated.The pointer on the dial moved up to the maximum of one hundred. Felix Tressler, keen with interest, leaned forward to watch the operation of the new wave motor.

UNLIKE the first machine, the new one showed no visible blades. Instead, it consisted of a solid cylinder that moved up and down with the regularity of a piston.

"The old idea," explained Zorman, "was to create power by having the waves turn blades, very much as a water current revolves a paddle wheel. That system was inefficient, because the motion of a swell is vertical, not horizontal.

"That moving cylinder is a floating buoy. It is lifted by each rise of the waves; it is lowered by each fall.

The buoy is double geared to hidden blades beneath. The vertical motion revolves the blades."

"It is very remarkable!" exclaimed Tressler.

"Yet simple," rejoined Zorman, "and highly efficient. The dream has been realized. The mighty power of the ocean, harnessed to produce electricity.

"A rising swell can raise up a huge ship weighing thousands of tons; it can lower the same vessel with absolute ease. Think of the tremendous energy expended in such action. We have applied that energy to the wave motor."

"Marvelous," agreed Tressler.

Zorman resumed his chair. Watching the operation of the model motor, he spoke in serious tone.

"Our corporation," he declared, "was formed as a speculative venture. It could never have succeeded with the original motor that we were trying to produce. That, I believe, was foreseen by the active members of our plant organization.

"Certain persons sought to turn the scheme into a swindle; to pad expenditures; to bleed the corporation of its funds. Others tried to develop an improved motor. Both succeeded.

"When the corporation reached the limit of its financial resources, the new motor became a possibility.

What looked like an excellent project to dupe unwary investors suddenly became a tremendous means of making millions of dollars.

"A few months ago, these options held by yourself, Bewkel, and Rightwood were valueless. Had any of you put up new funds, you would have lost them. As it now stands, the exertion of those options can bring millions of dollars to the fortunate investors."

"Wonderful!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tressler, with enthusiasm. "You are to be commended, Mr. Zorman. This will make your fortune, as well as ours. As president of Electro Oceanic, you will share in the huge profits.

"When Maurice Bewkel came to see me, I advised him to forget Electro Oceanic. That was because I had not seen this new model of the wave motor. It is terrible that Bewkel should have died with fortune in his grasp!"

"His option," remarked Zorman, "is ended. You and Rightwood, however, hold preference in purchase of the new stock issue. That is another reason why I have come to confer with you."

"Ah! You have a new suggestion?"

"Yes. Namely, that I advise you and Mr. Rightwood to purchase the stock that would have gone to Mr.Bewkel. That means seventy-five thousand dollars apiece, in addition to your one hundred and fifty thousand."

"An excellent idea. I, for one, shall follow it."

BIGELOW ZORMAN smiled in elation as he heard Felix Tressler's decision. Rising, he extended his hand. Tressler arose to receive it.

"I must leave," said Zorman. "I am going over to Broadway; I intend to return to my hotel later in the evening. From there, I shall call Channing Rightwood by long distance. Once he has heard of your decision, I am sure that he will agree to make the additional purchase when he exercises his option.

"Once these options are settled I shall clean up matters at the plant. Perry Harton has run things too long.

He must go. I shall expose the swindles for which I believe him to be responsible.

"More than that - I shall get to the root of this matter. Some interests may be in back of the plot to forestall the development of the new wave motor. I shall discover their ident.i.ty."

The two men had reached the door. They turned into the pa.s.sage. As on the occasion of Maurice Bewkel's visit, Wilton Byres suddenly appeared and joined them. Felix Tressler waved the secretary aside. The millionaire, himself, conducted Bigelow Zorman to the elevator.

Wilton Byres followed. His crafty eyes were watching both men. He heard the remarks that pa.s.sed between his employer and the visitor.

"Where can I reach you?" questioned Tressler.

"At the Hotel Goliath," returned Zorman, "That is where I am stopping. You will hear from me; but in the meantime -"

Felix Tressler looked quizzical as Bigelow Zorman paused. The corporation president lowered his voice.

"Heed my warning," he declared. "Dustin Cruett died, Maurice Bewkel died. Death is in the air!"

"I am safe here," smiled Tressler. "I never leave this penthouse."

"Nevertheless," warned Zorman, "I advise you to exert the utmost care. Until these options have been exercised, I see danger threatening!"

Tressler nodded as he shook hands with his departing guest. Zorman departed by the elevator. Tressler turned and walked heavily back to the penthouse roof. He resumed his big chair and lighted a panatella.

Soft footsteps padded as Wilton Byres appeared. The secretary pa.s.sed behind his employer's chair, picked up a notebook and started back into the penthouse. Over his shoulder, he glanced toward the distant sign that blazed with white lights in its corners and along its borders.

Bigelow Zorman was right. Death was in the air. Wilton Byres knew it; and his sly eyes were watching for the token that would foretell another stroke of doom!

Yet Felix Tressler remained unperturbed in his big chair. He had heard a second warning. Secure in the isolation of his penthouse roof, Tressler appeared unheeding!