As Tiffles was applying this species of exorcism in vain, Marcus came to his assistance.

“What on earth can it be?” exclaimed Tiffles.  “Not a new kind of steam engine; or an electrical apparatus; or a clock; or a sewing machine; or anything for spinning, carding, or weaving—­nothing that is adapted to any useful labor.  These heavy weights, that have fallen on the floor, would give the works a kind of jerky motion for a few seconds, while the weights were descending.  Nothing more.  But the ultimate purpose of the machine is a puzzler.”

“Mr. Minford always said that it was something that would revolutionize the world of industry—­that it was a new mechanical principle of universal application.”

Tiffles laughed a little.  “Excuse my levity,” said he, “but inventors—­and I am one of them, you know—­always claim that they are about to revolutionize the world of industry.  I never knew one of them to claim less than that for a patent flytrap or an improved sausage stuffer.  Mr. Minford was a man of genius, I dare say, but he probably overestimated the importance of his invention.  Have you any objection to my prying the thing apart at this opening?  I want to inspect some of the works that are partly concealed.  I pledge myself to put it together again as good as new.”

CHAPTER II.

A POSTHUMOUS SECRET.

“Go ahead,” said Marcus; and Tiffles, inserting his walking stick in a wide gap between two cog wheels, forced the strange machine apart.  A large brass drum upon which a small chain was loosely coiled, fell to the floor.  The other portions were not disturbed.  Marcus picked up the drum; and Tiffles cast his unerring eye in among the new jumble of wheels and connecting levers that was brought to view.

“Can’t make head or tail of it,” said he, at length.  “Let me see that drum.”

Marcus handed it to him.  Tiffles took it, like an expert, between a thumb and finger, and tapped it with his stick.  It answered back with a muffled clink.

“It is hollow, and contains some soft non-metallic substance.  Ah! here we have it.”  And Tiffles, unscrewing a nicely fitting cap from the drum, drew out a close roll of paper.  He unfolded it with trembling fingers.

The upper portion of the paper was covered with neatly drawn diagrams, which bore some semblance to the machine.  Beneath, in the fine copperplate hand of the inventor, were these memorable words: 

“Eliphalet Minford’s original plan of PERPETUAL MOTION, to which he has devoted his fortune, and twenty years of labor.  Perseverantia vincit omnia.”

“Christmas Day, 185-.”

Then followed a careful technical description of the plan, and a mention of the fact that on two occasions the machine had moved.  One occasion was the night of April 10, 184-, when the mass of wheels started with a sudden click, but stopped in three seconds by the clock.  The other occasion was daybreak, December 30, 185-, when the works began to move of their own accord, and did not stop for six seconds.  This record had evidently been made by the inventor for his private reference, and concealed in the brass drum for safe keeping.