Tiffles read with bated breath; and Marcus listened in astonishment.

“What do you think of it?” asked Marcus.

“I think,” replied Tiffles, “with every respect for the memory of the inventor, that he was insane.  Perpetual motion, without an exhaustive power—­or, in other words, the eternal motion of a thing by its own inherent properties—­is a simple impossibility.  To cite familiar illustrations of its absurdity, you might as well try to lift yourself by the straps of your boots, or pour a quart into a pint pot.  I wasted six months on perpetual motion when I was a boy, and gave it up.  Every inventive genius bothers his head with this nonsensical problem, till he learns that he is a fool.  Of course, I say this with every possible regard for your deceased friend.  He was insane on this point—­quoad hoc, as the lawyers have it—­without question, or he would not have thrown away twenty years on it;—­or twenty-three years, I should say, since the paper is dated, you observe, three years ago.”

“But Mr. Minford says, in that document, that the machine moved twice.  He could have no object in deceiving himself.”

“You are wrong there, my friend.  Inventors are continually deceiving themselves.  Their judgment, their very eyesight becomes worthless in respect to subjects upon which they have labored long and hoped ardently.  This machine has evidently been greatly altered from the original plan in the progress of its construction.  You observe that these weights do not appear on the diagrams.  They were an afterthought—­recently put on, I should judge, from the appearance of the cords which hold them.  Anybody can see, as I said before, that the weights would move the works spasmodically, so to speak.  But this motion cannot be what he alludes to as having taken place on two occasions.  Of course, I can’t explain what caused the motion on those occasions—­if it were a real motion, and not a fantasy of the inventor’s brain—­but I’ll bet my life that any intelligent mechanic could have fully explained it to Mr. Minford at the time.  But, mark you, Mr. Minford would never have accepted the explanation.  Inventors never take advice.”

“So then you are satisfied that this machine is of no value—­to Miss Minford—­except for old brass?”

“Oh!  I don’t say that.  Mr. Minford, aside from this absurd crotchet, may have possessed real mechanical genius.  Let me see if some part of it may not be good for something besides perpetual motion.”

Wesley Tiffles peered down among the brazen and steel complexities again.  “Sure enough, here it is,” said he; “a splendid window fastener.”

“I don’t see any window fastener,” exclaimed Marcus, looking in the direction of his friend’s forefinger.

“There—­that cam with a small spring and lever attached.  Strength and simplicity combined.  I have studied the subject of window fasteners—­in fact, have invented three or four, which possessed the extraordinary property of never letting the window up or down when you wanted to move it.  I recognize, in this window fastener, my ideal.  Marcus, you must patent it for Miss Minford.  It will be a sure fortune to her.  I’ll make the drawings and specifications.”