ntly asked the man at the
wheel.

"I live here," replied Tom.

"Ask him if he knows any one named Swift?" continued the voice from
the tonneau, and the driver started to repeat it.

"I heard him," interrupted Tom. "Yes, I know a Mr. Swift;" but Tom,
with a sudden resolve, and one he could hardly explain, decided
that, for the present, he would not betray his own identity.

"Ask him if Mr. Swift is an inventor." Once more the unseen person
spoke in the voice Tom was trying vainly to recall.

"Yes, he is an inventor," was the youth's answer.

"Do you know much about him? What are his habits? Does he live near
his workshops? Does he keep many servants? Does he--"

The unseen questioner suddenly parted the side curtains and peered
out at Tom, who stood in the muddy road, close to the automobile. At
that moment there came a bright flash of lightning, illuminating not
only Tom's face, but that of his questioner as well. And at the
sight Tom started, no less than did the man. For Tom had recognized
him as one of the three mysterious persons in the restaurant, and as
for the man, he had also recognized Tom.

"Ah--er--um--is--Why, it's you, isn't it?" cried the questioner, and
he thrust his head farther out from between the curtains. "My, what a
storm!" he exclaimed as the rain increased. "So you know Mr. Swift,
eh? I saw you to-day in Mansburg, I think. I have a good memory for
faces. Do you work for Mr. Swift? If you do I may be able to--"

"I'm Tom Swift, son of Mr. Barton Swift," said Tom as quietly as he
could.

"Tom Swift! His son!" cried the man, and he seemed much agitated.
"Why, I thought--that is, Morse said--Simpson, hurry back to
Mansburg!" and with that, taking no more notice of Tom, the man in
the auto hastily drew the curtains together.

The chauffeur threw in the gears and swung the ponderous machine to
one side. The road was wide, and he made the turn skilfully. A
moment later the car was speeding back the way it had come, leaving
Tom standing on the highway, alone in the mud and darkness, with the
rain pouring down in torrents.

CHAPTER VII.

OFF ON A SPIN

Tom's first impulse was to run after the automobile, the red tail-light
of which glowed through the blackness like a ruby eye. Then he
realized that it was going from him at such a swift pace that it
would be impossible to get near it, even if his bicycle was in
working order.

"But if I had my motor-cycle I'd catch up to them,"