The Master Key [43]
"There are not medicines, exactly," answered the boy, with a smile. "They are Concentrated Food Tablets, sorted with nourishment by means of electricity. One of them furnishes a person with food for an entire day."
The old gentleman stared at Rob a moment and then laid down his magazine and took the box in his hands, examining the tablets curiously.
"Are these patented?" he asked.
"No," said Rob; "they are unknown to any one but myself."
"I will give you a half million dollars for the recipe to make them," said the gentleman.
"I fear I must refuse your offer," returned Rob, with a laugh.
"I'll make it a million," said the gentleman, coolly.
Rob shook his head.
"Money can't buy the recipe," he said; "for I don't know it myself."
"Couldn't the tablets be chemically analyzed, and the secret discovered?" inquired the other.
"I don't know; but I'm not going to give any one the chance to try," declared the boy, firmly.
The old gentleman picked up his magazine without another word, and resumed his reading.
For amusement Rob took the Record of Events from his pocket and began looking at the scenes reflected from its polished plate.
Presently he became aware that the old gentleman was peering over his shoulder with intense interest. General Funston was just then engaged in capturing the rebel chief, Aguinaldo, and for a few moments both man and boy observed the occurrence with rapt attention. As the scene was replaced by one showing a secret tunnel of the Russian Nihilists, with the conspirators carrying dynamite to a recess underneath the palace of the Czar, the gentleman uttered a long sigh and asked:
"Will you sell that box?"
"No," answered Rob, shortly, and put it back into his pocket.
"I'll give you a million dollars to control the sale in Chicago alone," continued the gentleman, with an eager inflection in his smooth voice.
"You seem quite anxious to get rid of money," remarked Rob, carelessly. "How much are you worth?"
"Personally?"
"Yes."
"Nothing at all, young man. I am not offering you my own money. But with such inventions as you have exhibited I could easily secure millions of capital. Suppose we form a trust, and place them upon the market. We'll capitalize it for a hundred millions, and you can have a quarter of the stock--twenty-five millions. That would keep you from worrying about grocery bills."
"But I wouldn't need groceries if I had the tablets," said Rob, laughing.
"True enough! But you could take life easily and read your newspaper in comfort, without being in any hurry to get down town to business. Twenty-five millions would bring you a cozy little income, if properly invested."
"I don't see why one should read newspapers when the Record of Events shows all that is going on in the world," objected Rob.
"True, true! But what do you say to the proposition?"
"I must decline, with thanks. These inventions are not for sale."
The gentleman sighed and resumed his magazine, in which he became much absorbed.
Rob put on the Character Marking Spectacles and looked at him. The letters "E," "W" and "C" were plainly visible upon the composed, respectable looking brow of his companion.
"Evil, wise and cruel," reflected Rob, as he restored the spectacles to his pocket. "How easily such a man could impose upon people. To look at him one would think that butter wouldn't melt in his mouth!"
He decided to part company with this chance acquaintance and, rising from his seat, strolled leisurely up the walk. A moment later, on looking back, he discovered that the old gentleman had disappeared.
He walked down State Street to the river and back again, amused by the activity displayed in this busy section of the city. But the time he had allowed himself in Chicago had now expired, so he began looking around for some high building from the roof of which he could depart unnoticed.
This was not at all difficult, and selecting one of many stores he ascended by an elevator to the top floor and from there mounted an iron stairway