e had been the
innocent cause of a grave danger that overhung Tom and his friends,
whistled gaily as he gathered the boxes, bales and packages into a
pile, ready for the expressman, who was to call in the morning.

Tom, together with Ned, Mr. Damon and Eradicate, were to leave the
following afternoon, and stay in New York until the sailing of the
steamer. They preferred to be a day or so ahead of time than half an
hour late, and were taking no chances.

"Bless my timetable!" exclaimed Mr. Damon that night, as they sat in
the library of the Swift home, checking over the lists to make sure
that nothing had been forgotten, "bless my timetable, but it doesn't
seem possible that we are going to start at last."

"Yes, we'll soon be on the way to giant land," spoke Tom in a low
voice. Somehow the young inventor did not seem to be in his usually
bright spirits.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," remarked Ned. "What's the
matter, Tom?"

"Oh, nothing much. Though I would feel better if I knew that Andy
Foger didn't have any inkling of what our plans were," he added, for
Eradicate was not present.

"Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed his chum. "Mr. Preston will be here in the
morning, and he'll know whether his rival has any idea of camping on
our trail. Cheer up!"

"Yes, I suppose I am foolish to worry," admitted Tom, "but, somehow
I can't help it. I wish Mr. Preston was here now to tell us that
Wayland Waydell had gone off to the centre of Africa for a dwarf.
Then I'd know we had nothing to fear. But I guess--"

Tom did not finish his sentence for, at that moment, there came a
peal at the door bell. Instinctively every one started, and Mr.
Damon exclaimed:

"Bless my burglar alarm! What's that?"

"Someone at the door, Tom," replied Mr. Swift calmly. "That's
nothing unusual. It's early yet."

But, in spite of his reassuring words, there was a feeling of vague
alarm.

"I'll see who it is," volunteered Ned. "If it's Andy Foger--"

Mrs. Baggert entered the room at that moment. She had hurried to the
door, and, as she entered she announced:

"Mr. Preston!"

"Yes, it is I!" added the circus man following her quickly into the
room. "I came on to-night instead of waiting for the morning, Tom. I
have bad news for you!"

"Bad news!" gasped the young inventor. "Has Waydell got hold of your
plans."

"I'll wager it has something to do with Andy Foger!" exclaimed Ned.

"Neither one," spoke the circus man. "But I have just ha