he murmured. "As
it is, I must hurry home and tell dad. This is another link in the
queer chain that seems to be winding around us. I wonder who that
man was, and what he wanted by asking so many personal questions
about dad?"

Trundling his wheel before him, with the chain dangling from the
handle-bar, Tom splashed on through the mud and rain. It was a
lonesome, weary walk, tired as he was with the happenings of the
day, and the young inventor breathed a sigh of thankfulness as the
lights of his home shone out in the mist of the storm. As he tramped
up the steps of the side porch, his wheel bumping along ahead of
him, a door was thrown open.

"Why, it's Tom!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert. "Whatever happened to you?"
and she hurried forward with kindly solicitude, for the housekeeper
was almost a second mother to the youth.

"Chain broke," answered the lad laconically. "Where's dad?"

"Out in the shop, working at his latest invention, I expect. But are
you hurt?"

"Oh, no. I fell easily. The mud was like a feather-bed, you know,
except that it isn't so good for the clothes," and the young
inventor looked down at his splashed and bedraggled garments.

Mr. Swift was very much surprised when Tom told him of the happening
on the road, and related the conversation and the subsequent alarm
of the man on learning Tom's identity.

"Who do you suppose he could have been?" asked Tom, when he had
finished.

"I am pretty certain he was one of that crowd of financiers of whom
Anson Morse seems to be a representative," said Mr. Swift. "Are you
sure the man was one of those you saw in the restaurant?"

"Positive. I had a good look at him both times. Do you think he
imagined he could come here and get possession of some of your
secrets?"

"I hardly know what to think, Tom. But we will take every
precaution. We will set the burglar alarm wires, which I have
neglected for some time, as I fancied everything would be secure
here. Then I will take my plans and the model of the turbine motor
into the house. I'll run no chances to-night."

Mr. Swift, who was adjusting some of the new bolts that Tom had
brought home that day; began to gather up his tools and material.

"I'll help you, dad," said Tom, and he began connecting the burglar
alarm wires, there being an elaborate system of them about the
house, shops and grounds.

Neither Tom nor his father slept well that night. Several times one
or the other of them arose, thinking the