e behind."

"How long will it take to polish them?" asked Tom.

"Oh, about an hour. In fact, a man is working on them now. If you
could call this afternoon they'll be ready. Can you?"

"I s'pose I've got to," replied Tom good-naturedly. "Guess I'll have
to stay in Mansburg for dinner. I can't get back to Shopton in time
now."

"I'll be sure to have them for you after dinner," promised Mr.
Merton. "Now, there's a matter I want to speak to you about, Tom.
Has your father any idea of giving the work he has been turning over
to me to some other firm?"

"Not that I know of. Why?" and the lad showed his wonder.

"Well, I'll tell you why. Some time ago there was a stranger in
here, asking about your father's work. I told Mr. Swift of it at the
time. The stranger said then that he and some others were thinking
of opening a machine shop, and he wanted to find out whether they
would be likely to get any jobs from your father. I told the man I
knew nothing about Mr. Swift's business, and he went away. I didn't
hear any more of it, though of course I didn't want to lose your
father's trade. Now a funny thing happened. Only this morning the
same man was back here, and he was making particular inquiries about
your father's private machine shops."

"He was?" exclaimed Tom excitedly.

"Yes. He wanted to know where they were located, how they were laid
out, and what sort of work he did in them."

"What did you tell him?"

"Nothing at all. I suspected something, and I said the best way for
him to find out would be to go and see your father. Wasn't that
right?"

"Sure. Dad doesn't want his business known any more than he can
help. What do you suppose they wanted?"

"Well, the man talked as though he and his partners would like to
buy your father's shops."

"I don't believe he'd sell. He has them arranged just for his own
use in making patents, and I'm sure he would not dispose of them."

"Well, that's what I thought, but I didn't tell the man so. I judged
it would be best for him to find out for himself."

"What was the man's name?"

"He didn't tell me, and I didn't ask him."

"How did he look?"

"Well, he was well dressed, wore kid gloves and all that, and he had
a little black mustache."

Tom started, and Mr. Merton noticed it.

"Do you know him?" he asked.

"No," replied Tom, "but I saw--" Then he stopped. He recalled the
man he had seen in the post-office. He answered this description,
but it was too vagu