Tom Swift and His Airship | Page 8

intricate figures and calculations, which Mr. Swift and the balloonist went over with care. Tom was examining some blue prints, which gave a sectional view of the proposed ship, and was making some measurements when the bell rang, and Mrs. Baggert ushered in Ned Newton, the most particular chum of the young inventor.
"Hello, Ned!" exclaimed Tom. "I was wondering what had become of you. Haven't seen you in a dog's age."
"That's right," admitted Ned. "We've been working late nights at the bank. Getting ready for the regular visit of the examiner, who usually comes along about this time. Well, how are things going; and how is the airship?" for, of course, Ned had heard of that.
"Oh, pretty good. Had another explosion today, I s'pose you heard."
"No, I hadn't."
"I thought everyone in town had, for Andy Foger and his two cronies were on hand, and they usually tell all they know."
"Oh, Andy Foger! He makes me sick! He was scooting up the street in his auto just as I was coming in, `honking-honking' his horn to beat the band! You'd think no one ever had an auto but him. He certainly was going fast."
"Wait until I get in our airship," predicted Tom. "Then I'll show you what speed is!"
"Do you really think it will go fast?"
"Of course it will! Fast enough to catch Anson Morse and his crowd of scoundrels if we could get on their track."
"Why, I thought they were in jail," replied Ned, in some surprise. "Weren't they arrested after they stole your boat?"
"Yes, and put in jail, but they managed to get out, and now they're free to make trouble for us again."
"Are you sure they're out of jail?" asked Ned, and Tom noted that his chum's face wore an odd look.
"Sure? Of course I am. But why do you ask?"
Ned did not answer for a moment. He glanced at Tom's father, and the young inventor understood. Mr. Swift was getting rather along in age, and his long years of brain work had made him nervous. He had a great fear of Morse and his gang, for they had made much trouble for him in the past. Tom appreciated his chum's hesitancy, and guessed that Ned had something to say that he did not want Mr. Swift to hear.
"Come on up to my room, Ned. I've got something I want to show you," exclaimed Tom, after a pause.
The two lads left the room, Tom glancing apprehensively at his father. But Mr. Swift was so engrossed, together with the aeronaut, in making some calculations regarding wind pressure, that it is doubtful if either of the men were aware that the boys had gone.
"Now what is it, Ned?" demanded our hero, when they were safe in his apartment. "Something's up. I can tell by your manner. What is it?"
"Maybe it's nothing at all," went on his chum. "If I had known, though that those men had gotten out of jail, I would have paid more attention to what I saw to-night, as I was leaving the bank to come here."
"What did you see?" demanded Tom, and his manner, which had been calm, became somewhat excited.
"Well, you know I've been helping the payingteller straighten up his books," went on the young bank employee, "and when I came out tonight, after working for several hours, I was glad enough to hurry away from the `slave-den,' as I call it. I almost ran up the street, not looking where I was going, when, just as I turned the corner, I bumped into a man."
"Nothing suspicious or wonderful in that," commented Tom. "I've often run into people."
"Wait," advised Ned. "To save myself from falling I grabbed the man's arm. He did the same to me, and there we stood, for a moment, right under a gas lamp. I looked down at his hands, and I saw that on the little finger of the left one there was tattooed a blue ring, and-"
"Happy Harry-the tramp!" exclaimed Tom, now much excited. "That's where he wears a tattooed ring!"
"That's what I thought you had told me," resumed Ned, "but I didn't pay any attention to it at the time, as I had no idea that the men were out of jail."
"Well, what else happened?" inquired Tom
"Not much more. I apologized to the man, and he to me, and we let go of each other."
"Are you sure about the ring on his finger?"
"Positive. His hand was right in the light. But wait, that isn't all. I hurried on, not thinking much about it, when, I saw another man step out of the dark shadows of Peterby's grocery, just beyond the bank. The man must have mistaken me for some one else, for he spoke to me."
"What did he say?"
"He asked me a question. It was: `Is there any