ng for us. We do
need some white washing done, don't we, dad?"

"What's that?" asked Mr. Swift, thinking his son was joking.

Then Tom told of the happening.

"Yes, I think I can find some work for Eradicate to do," went on Mr.
Swift. "There is some dirt in the boiler shop that needs
eradicating, and I think he can do it. But dinner has been waiting
some time. We'll go in now, or Mrs. Baggert will be out after us."

Father and son were soon at the table, and Tom was explaining what
he meant to do to improve his motor-cycle. His father offered some
suggestions regarding the placing of the gasolene lever.

"I'd put it here," he said, and with his pencil he began to draw a
diagram on the white table cloth.

"Oh, my goodness me, Mr. Swift!" exclaimed Mrs. Baggert. "Whatever
are you doing?" and she sprang up in some alarm.

"What's the matter? Did I upset my tea?" asked the inventor
innocently.

"No; but you are soiling a clean tablecloth. Pencil-marks are so
hard to get out. Take a piece of paper, please."

"Oh, is that all?" rejoined Mr. Swift with a smile. "Well, Tom, here
is the way I would do that," and substituting the back of an
envelope for the tablecloth, he continued the drawing.

Tom was looking over his father's shoulder interestedly, when Mrs.
Baggert, who was taking off some of the dinner dishes, suddenly
asked:

"Are you expecting a visitor, Mr. Swift?"

"A visitor? No. Why?" asked the inventor quickly.

"Because I just saw a man going in the machine shop," went on the
housekeeper.

"A man! In the machine shop!" exclaimed Tom, rising from his chair.
Mr. Swift also got up, and the two hurried from the house. As they
reached the yard they saw a man emerging from the building where Mr.
Swift was constructing his turbine motor. The man had his back
turned toward them and seemed to be sneaking around, as though
desirous of escaping observation.

"What do you want?" called Mr. Swift.

The man turned quickly. At the sight of Mr. Swift and Tom he made a
jump to one side and got behind a big packing-box.

"That's queer," spoke Tom. "I wonder what he wants?"

"I'll soon see," rejoined Mr. Swift, and he started on a run toward
where the man was hiding. Tom followed his father, and as the two
inventors reached the box the man sprang from behind it and down the
yard to a lane that passed in back of the Swift house. As he ran he
was seen to stuff some papers in his pocket.

"My plans! He's stolen s