Publisher's Synopsis
"Are either Mr. Chadwick or Mr. Jesson about?" "Humph!" and the gangling, rather disagreeable-looking youth who had answered the summons to the door of the Boy Inventors' workshop, gave a supercilious look over the dusty and worn, although carefully mended, clothes of the dark-eyed, dark-haired, slender youth who confronted him. "What do you want to know that for, anyhow?" and upon the personal pronoun he placed a contemptuous emphasis. "That is a question to which I can only reply when I can see either Jack Chadwick or Tom Jesson personally. My name is Ned Nevins, -not that either of them knows me, -but will you be so kind as to find out if they'll see me?" "If you can't tell me your business, you can't see them. State what you want to me. If it's money--" "It is not!" The dark-eyed young visitor's eyes held a warning flash which the other lad, who was half a head taller and far stouter of build than Ned Nevins, affected not to notice. "Well, you can't speak to them." This with an air of finality. "But you don't understand--" "I do, perfectly. They are both far too busy to bother with any inquisitive kind of tramp that happens along." "Then you won't let them know I would like to see them?" The other's voice rose angrily. "I said 'No' once. N-O-no! Isn't that enough?" "Quite enough."
