Tom Swift and His Photo Telephone Part 17

"Yes," said Tom. "I know. Only it wasn't like him to bless such grewsome things. He was more jolly."

"He hasn't been, of late," sighed his wife. "Well, he sat about all the evening, and he kept figuring away, trying, I suppose, to find some way out of his trouble."

"Why didn't he come to my father?" cried Tom. "I told him he could have all the money he needed to tide him over."

"Well, Mr. Damon was queer that way," said his wife. "He wanted to be independent. I urged him to call you up, but he said he'd fight it out alone."

"As I said, we sat there, and he kept feeling more and more blue, and blessing his funeral, and the hea.r.s.e and all such things as that. He kept looking at the clock, too, and I wondered at that."

"'Are you expecting someone?' I asked him. He said he wasn't, exactly, but I made sure he was, and finally, about half-past eleven, he put on his hat and went out."

"'Where are you going?' I asked him."

"'Oh, just to get a breath of air. I can't sleep,' he said. I didn't think much of that, as he often used to go out and walk about a bit before going to bed. So he went out, and I began to see about locking up, for I never trust the servants."

"It must have been about an hour later when I heard voices out in front. I looked, and I saw Mr. Damon talking to a man."

"Who was he?" asked Tom, eagerly, on the alert for the slightest clue.

"I thought at the time," said Mrs. Damon, "that it was one of the neighbors. I have learned since, however, that it was not. Anyhow, this man and Mr. Damon stood talking for a little while, and then they went off together. I didn't think it strange at the time, supposing he was merely strolling up and down in front with Mr.

Blackson, who lives next door, He often had done that before."

"Well, I saw that the house was locked up, and then I sat down in a chair to wait for Mr. Damon to come back. I was getting sleepy, for we don't usually stay up so late. I suppose I must have dozed off, but I was suddenly awakened by hearing a peculiar noise. I sat up in alarm, and then I realized that Mr. Damon had not come in."

"I was frightened then, and I called my maid. It was nearly one o'clock, and my husband never stays out as late as that. We went next door, and found that Mr. Blackson had not been out of his house that evening. So it could not have been he to whom Mr. Damon was speaking."

"We roused up other neighbors, and they searched all about the grounds, thinking he might have been overcome by a sudden faint.

But we could not find him. My husband had disappeared--mysteriously disappeared!" and the lady broke into sobs.

"Now don't worry," said Tom, soothingly, as he put his arms about her as he would have done to his own mother, had she been alive, "We'll get him back!"

"But how can you? No one knows where he is."

"Oh, yes!" said Tom, confidently, "Mr. Damon himself knows where he is, and unless he has gone away voluntarily, I think you will soon hear from him."

"What do you mean by--voluntarily?" asked the wife.

"First let me ask you a question," came from Tom. "You said you were awakened by a peculiar noise. What sort of a sound was it?"

"Why, a whirring, throbbing noise, like--like--"

She paused for a comparison.

"Like an airs.h.i.+p?" asked Tom, with a good deal of eagerness.

"That was it!" cried Mrs. Damon. "I was trying to think where I had heard the sound before. It was just like the noise your airs.h.i.+p makes, Tom!"

"That settles it!" exclaimed the young inventor.

"Settles what?" asked Ned.

"The manner of Mr. Damon's disappearance. He was taken away--or went away--in my airs.h.i.+p--the airs.h.i.+p that was stolen from my shed last night!"

Mrs. Damon stared at Tom in amazement.

"Why--why--how could that be?" she asked.

Quickly Tom told of what had happened at his place.

"I begin to see through it," he said. "There is some plot here, and we've got to get to the bottom of it. Mr. Damon either went with these men in the airs.h.i.+p willingly, or he was taken away by force. I'm inclined to think he went of his own accord, or you would have heard some outcry, Mrs. Damon."

"Well, perhaps so," she admitted. "But would he go away in that manner without telling me?"

"He might," said Tom, willing to test his theory on all sides. "He might not have wanted you to worry, for you know you dislike him to go up an airs.h.i.+ps."

"Yes, I do. Oh, if I only thought he did go away of his own accord, I could understand it. He went, if he did, to try and save his fortune."

"It does look as though he had an appointment with someone, Tom,"

suggested Ned. "His looking at the clock, and then going out, and all that."

"Yes," admitted the young inventor, "and now I'm inclined to change my theory a bit. It may have been some other airs.h.i.+p than mine that was used."

"How so?" asked Ned.

"Because the men who took mine were unprincipled fellows. Mr.

Damon would not have gone away with men who would steal an airs.h.i.+p."

"Not if he knew it," admitted Ned. "Well, then, let's consider two airs.h.i.+ps--yours and the other that came to keep the appointment with Mr. Damon. If the last is true, why should he want to go away in an airs.h.i.+p at midnight? Why couldn't he take a train, or an auto?"

"Well, we don't know all the ins and outs," admitted Tom. "Taking a midnight airs.h.i.+p ride is rather strange, but that may have been the only course open. We'll have to let the explanation go until later. At any rate, Mrs. Damon, I feel sure that your husband did go off through the air--either in my Eagle or in some other craft."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you say so, Tom Swift, though it sounds a dreadful thing to say. But if he did go off of his own accord, I know he did it for the best. And he may not have told me, for fear I would worry. I can understand that. But why isn't he back now?"

Tom had been rather dreading that question. It was one he had asked himself, and he had found no good answer for it. If there had been such need of haste, that an airs.h.i.+p had to be used, why had not Mr. Damon come back ere this? Unless, as Tom feared to admit, even to himself, there had been some accident.

Half a dozen theories flashed through his mind, but he could not select a good, working one,--particularly as there were no clues.

Disappearing in an airs.h.i.+p was the one best means of not leaving a trace behind. An auto, a motor boat, a train, a horse and carriage--all these could be more or less easily traced. But an airs.h.i.+p--

If Mr. Damon wanted to cover up his tracks, or if he had been taken away, and his captors wanted to baffle pursuit, the best means had been adopted.

"Now don't you worry," advised Tom to Mrs. Damon. "I know it looks funny, but I think it will come out all right. Ned and I will do all we can. Mr. Damon must have known what he was about. But, to be on the safe side, we'll send out a general alarm through the police."

"Oh, I don't know what I'd done if you hadn't come to help me!"

exclaimed Mrs. Damon.

"Just you leave it to me!" said the young inventor, cheerfully.

"I'll find Mr. Damon!"

But, though he spoke thus confidently, Tom Swift had not the slightest notion, just then, of how to set about his difficult task. He had had hard problems to solve before, so he was not going to give up this one. First he wanted to think matters out, and arrange a plan of action.