Peter Brent sat nervously smoking in the library of his great house,
Brent Rock.

He was a man of about forty-five or -six--a typical, shrewd business man.
Something, however, was evidently on his mind, for, though he tried to
conceal it, he lacked the self-assurance that was habitually his before
the world.

A scowl clouded his face as the door of the library was flung open and
he heard voices in the hall. A tall, spare, long-haired man forced his
way in, crushing his soft black hat in his hands.

"I _will_ see Mr. Brent," insisted the new-comer, as he pushed past the
butler. "Mr. Brent!" he cried, advancing with a wild light in his eyes.
"I'm tired of excuses. I want justice regarding that water-motor of
mine." He paused, then added, shaking his finger threateningly, "Put it
on the market--or I will call in the Department of Justice!"

Brent scowled again. For years he had been amassing a fortune by a
process that was scarcely within the law.

For, when inventions threaten to render useless already existing
patents, necessitating the scrapping of millions of dollars' worth of
machinery, vested interests must be protected.

Thus, Brent and his partner, Herbert Balcom, had evolved a simple method
of protecting corporations against troublesome inventors and inventions.
They had formed their own corporation, International Patents,