Part 14 (2/2)
”Of course. Well, I must get back to my work,” said the inventor. ”Ah, are you hurt, Eradicate?” he went on, as the colored man came back, driving Boomerang, who had been stopped just before reaching the road.
”No, Mistah Swift, I ain't exactly damaged, but mah feelin's am suah hurted.”
”How's that?”
”Well, I thought I had growed strong in de night, when I lifted dat airs.h.i.+p, but when I went to stop mah mule I couldn't do it. He won't hab no respect fo' me now.”
”Oh, I wouldn't let that worry me,” commented Mr. Swift, and he explained to Eradicate how it was that he had so easily lifted the end of the buoyant s.h.i.+p, which weighed very little when filled with gas.
The colored man proceeded with his work of whitewas.h.i.+ng, the inventor was in his library, puzzling over tables of intricate figures, and Mrs.
Baggert was in the kitchen, sighing occasionally as she thought of Tom, whom she loved almost as a son, high in the air, when two men came up the walk, from the street, and knocked at the side door. Mrs. Baggert, who answered the summons, was somewhat surprised to see Chief of Police Simonson and Constable Higby.
”They probably came to see the airs.h.i.+p start,” she thought, ”but they're too late.”
”Ah, good morning, Mrs. Baggert,” greeted the chief. ”Is Mr. Swift and his son about this morning?”
”Mr. Swift is in his library, but Tom is gone.”
”He'll be back though, won't he?” asked Constable Higby quickly--anxiously, Mrs. Baggert thought.
”Oh, yes,” she replied. ”He and--”
”Just take us to see Mr. Swift,” interrupted the chief, with a look of caution at his aide. ”We'll explain matters to him.”
Wondering what could be the mission of the two officers, Mrs. Baggert led them to the library.
”It's queer,” she thought, ”that they don't ask something about the airs.h.i.+p. I suppose that was what they came for. But maybe it's about the mysterious men who robbed Mr. Swift.”
”Ah, gentlemen, what can I do for you?” asked the inventor, as he rose to greet the officials.
”Ahem, Mr. Swift. Ahem--er--that is--well, the fact is, Mr. Swift,”
stammered the chief, ”we have come upon a very painful errand.”
”What's that?” cried Tom's father. ”I haven't been robbed again, have I?'
”There has been a robbery committed,” spoke the constable quickly.
”But you are not the victim,” interposed the chief.
”I'm glad of that,” said Mr. Swift.
”Where is your son, Tom?” asked the head of the Shopton police force, sharply.
”What do you want with him?” inquired the inventor, struck by some strange tone in the other's voice.
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