Tom Swift and His Great Searchlight | Page 7

be him blessing something. Is this far enough out,
Tom?"
"No, a little more, and then head her up into the wind. I say, Ned, if this
is a success, and--"
Tom stopped suddenly and looked out into the road. Then, in a low
voice, he said, to Ned:
"Don't move suddenly, or he'll suspect that we're onto his game, but
turn around slowly, and look behind that big sycamore tree in front of
our house Ned. Tell me what you see."
"There's a man hiding there, Tom," reported his chum, a little later,
after a cautious observation.
"I thought so. What's he doing?"
"Why he--by Jove! Tom, he's looking at us through opera glasses, like
that other--"
"It isn't ANOTHER, it's the same fellow!" whispered Tom. "It's the spy
who was watching Andy! I'm going to see what's up," and he strode
rapidly toward the street, at the curb of which was the tree that partly
screened the man behind it.

CHAPTER III
QUEER REPAIRS
Quickly Tom Swift crossed the space between the airship, that was
ready for a flight, and the tree. The man behind it had apparently not
seen Tom coming, being so interested in looking at the airship, which
was a wonderful craft. He was taken completely by surprise as Tom,
stepping up to him, asked sharply:
"Who are you and what are you doing here?"
The man started so that he nearly dropped the opera glasses, which he
had held focused on the aeroplane. Then he stepped back, and eyed
Tom sharply.
"What do you want?" repeated our hero. "What right have you to be
spying on that airship--on these premises?" The man hesitated a
moment, and then coolly returned the glasses to his pocket. He did not
seem at all put out, after his first start of surprise.
"What are you doing?" Tom again asked. He looked around to see
where Koku, the giant, was, and beheld the big man walking slowly
toward him, for Ned had mentioned what had taken place.
"What right have you to question my actions?" asked the man, and
there was in his tones a certain authority that made Tom wonder.
"Every right," retorted our hero. "That is my airship, at which you have
been spying, and this is where I live."
"Oh, it is; eh?" asked the man calmly. "And that's your airship, too?"
"I invented it, and built the most of it myself. If you are interested in
such things, and can assure me that you have no spying methods in
view, I can show you--"
"Have you other airships?" interrupted the man quickly.

"Yes, several," answered Tom. "But I can't understand why you should
be spying on me. If you don't care to accept my offer, like a gentleman,
tell me who you are, and what your object is, I will have my assistant
remove you. You are on private property, as this street is not a public
one, being cut through by my father. I'll have Koku remove you by
force, if you won't go peaceably, and I think you'll agree with me that
Koku can do it. Here Koku," he called sharply, and the big man
advanced quickly.
"I wouldn't do anything rash, if I were you," said the man quietly. "As
for this being private property, that doesn't concern me. You're Tom
Swift, aren't you; and you have several airships?"
"Yes, but what right have you to--"
"Every right!" interrupted the man, throwing back the lapel of his coat,
and showing a badge. "I'm Special Agent William Whitford, of the
United States Customs force, and I'd like to ask you a few questions,
Tom Swift." He looked our hero full in the face.
"Customs department!" gasped Tom. "You want to ask me some
questions?"
"That's it," went on the man, in a business-like voice.
"What about?"
"Smuggling by airship from Canada!"
"What!" cried Tom. "Do you mean to say you suspect me of being
implicated in--"
"Now go easy," advised the man calmly. "I didn't say anything, except
that I wanted to QUESTION you. If you'd like me to do it out here,
why I can. But as someone might hear us--"
"Come inside," said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating in a
tumult. "You may go, Koku, but stay within call," he added

significantly. "Come on, Ned," and he motioned to his chum who was
approaching. "This man is a custom officer and not a spy or a detective,
as we thought."
"Oh, yes, I am a SORT of a detective," corrected Mr. Whitford. "And
I'm a spy, too, in a way, for I've been spying on you, and some other
parties in town. But you may be able to explain everything," he added,
as he took a seat in the library between Ned