"Certain parts have been taken out," David declared at last, "the jets are missing and these valves have been unscrewed. The machine can never go without them."
There followed a search in every drawer, on every shelf, in each nook and cranny of the whole room.
"He seems to have put them away in some very safe place," an assistant said. "It is unfortunate that he did not think that some one else might wish to use them without him. Very unfortunate and very strange."
David was standing in the middle of the room, his eye on the table, once such a litter of papers but now quite bare.
"He has burned all his drawings and plans," he observed, "and he must have destroyed those missing parts. Do you remember, Betsey, he said the machine should never run again!"
"But why, why?" demanded Garven. "This is a thing I do not understand at all."
They told him the whole story, there seemed no reason for concealment. The older man heard it through in silence.
"We worked together years ago, Reynolds and I," he said at the conclusion, "and he was the same as now, very ambitious, very tenacious of his purpose, but sometimes overwhelmed with such tem-
