to be, or not."

"I most certainly do not--especially in the turbine motor. That is
my latest invention, and, I think, will prove very valuable. But,
though I have not mentioned it before, I expect to have trouble with
it. Soon after I perfected it, with the exception of some minor
details, I received word from a syndicate of rich men that I was
infringing on a motor, the patent of which they controlled."

"This surprised me for two reasons. One was because I did not know
that any one knew I had invented the motor. I had kept the matter
secret, and I am at a loss to know how it leaked out. To prevent any
further information concerning my plans becoming public, I sent you
to Mansburg to-day. But it seems that the precaution was of little
avail. Another matter of surprise was the information that I was
infringing on the patent of some one else. I had a very careful
examination made, and I found that the syndicate of rich men was
wrong. I was not infringing. In fact, though the motor they have is
somewhat like mine, there is one big difference--theirs does not
work, while mine does. Their patents are worthless."

"Then what do you think is their object?"

"I think they want to get control of my invention of the turbine
motor, Tom. That is what has been worrying me lately. I know these
men to be unscrupulous, and, with plenty of money, they may make
trouble for me."

"But can't you fight them in the courts?"

"Yes, I could do that. It is not as if I was a poor man, but I do
not like lawsuits. I want to live quietly and invent things. I
dislike litigation. However, if they force it on me I will fight!"
exclaimed Mr. Swift determinedly.

"Do you think this man was one of the crowd of financiers?" asked
Tom.

"It would be hard to say. I did not like his actions, and the fact
that he sneaked in here, as if he was trying to get possession of
some of my models or plans, makes it suspicious."

"It certainly does," agreed Tom. "Now, if we only knew his name we
could--"

He suddenly paused in his remark and sprang forward. He picked up an
envelope that had dropped where the stranger had been standing.

"The man lost this from his pocket, dad," said Tom eagerly. "It's a
telegram. Shall we look at it?"

"I think we will be justified in protecting ourselves. Is the
envelope open?"

"Yes."

"Then read the telegram."

Tom drew out a folded yellow slip of paper. It was a short message.
He read:

"'Anson Morse, Man