AN ACCIDENT
"Oh, I think you're letting your imagination run away with you, Ned,"
grinned Tom. "I know Mr. Stern, the president of Apex, very well, and
I'm positive that he wouldn't stand for any underhanded tactics."
[Illustration: "I Know Mr. Stern," Grinned Tom]
"I hope you're right," said his business manager. "But you know better
than anyone else how unscrupulous gangs have tried to steal your
inventions. At first it was Happy Harry the tramp, and the last was
Doctor Bane. No telling how many thugs were after you and your father in
between. You'd be wise to get some extra guards."
"I think Koku is well able to handle any intruder," declared Tom
confidently. "Besides, I think you're getting excited over nothing. You
know Mr. Damon is inclined to make mountains out of molehills."
[Illustration: "Koku Is Able to Handle Anyone."]
"That's all very well," persisted his friend stubbornly, "but just
suppose Mr. Damon is right in his suspicions? It'd be too late then to
do anything about it."
"Don't worry, old man. My Chest of Secrets will hold its contents secure
against any burglar's attack. Now it's late. You'd better stay to
dinner. Afterward, if you care to and have no other date, we can talk
over some unfinished business."
[Illustration: The Chest Would Guard the Secrets]
"Thanks, Tom. I'll be glad to spend the evening with you."
Locking up the laboratory, the two boys walked leisurely through the
warm June twilight toward the big white house. Low in the sky hung the
silvery crescent of the new moon, while almost overhead Mars glowed
brightly.
"There's our goal, Ned," murmured Tom, pointing to the red planet. "I
feel sure that our meteorite came from that far-off world!"
[Illustration: "There's Our Goal, Ned."]
"Granting that it did come from another planet," objected Ned, "I don't
get the reason why you're so sure it came from Mars. There are nine
planets circling the sun, including the earth. Ruling out the sun, it
seems to me that there is but one chance in eight that you are right."
[Illustration: "Nine Planets Circle the Sun."]
"If it were simply a matter of chance, there'd be a lot of weight behind
your argument, Ned. But a lot of other factors enter the problem. I
should say that the only planets where life as we know it might exist
are Mars and Venus. The latter I ruled out, for astronomers have found
that it is forever covered thickly with dense clouds. Thus the
inhabitants, if any, must be ignorant of any world but their own."
"What have people on the planets got to do with the question, anyhow?"
asked Ned. "Huge chunks of metal break off of any heavenly body and go
hurtling through space. The inhabitants don't throw them off!"
[Illustration: Chunks of Metal Rushing Through Space]
"But our meteor was no ordinary one as we have proved already," replied
Tom. "I firmly believe that someone on another planet deliberately fired
that missile into space, hoping it would reach this world. Since
scientists agree that Mars probably is inhabited by a highly intelligent
race, that planet is a reasonable guess."
"Whew!" whistled Ned. "Such ideas are beyond me."
[Illustration: "Someone on Another Planet Fired the Missile."]
As he finished speaking, the boys reached the Swift residence. The
young inventor's father had built the handsome white house many years
before his son was born. Beyond were the several buildings where the
inventions of Tom Swift and his father, Barton Swift, were manufactured.
Of recent years the latter had not been active, but had put the affairs
in the hands of his capable son Tom, ably assisted by Ned Newton. The
older man now spent most of his time writing scientific books and
articles.
[Illustration: The Boys Reached the Swift Residence]
The boys washed as quickly as possible so as not to delay dinner, for
both possessed healthy appetites. Joining Mr. Swift in the library, they
found him and Mr. Damon deep in a game of chess.
"Check!" cried Tom's father triumphantly, moving his king. "Got you
again, Damon!"
"Bless my pawns and castles!" exclaimed the eccentric gentleman. "You've
won three straight games!"
[Illustration: Mr. Swift, Tom's Father]
"Hello, Dad!" said Tom suddenly. "I see you're up to your old tricks!"
In spite of his bantering tone the young inventor was pleased that his
father was relaxing in a friendly game.
"Your father shouldn't be in the amateur class any more, Tom!" Mr. Damon
grumbled playfully. "Bless my trophy cup, but I'm afraid to play with
him!"
"Better luck next time," consoled Mr. Swift, a twinkle in his eye.
Mr. Damon left, refusing an invitation to dinner and saying that he
had to take his car to a garage for a minor repair job before starting
for his home in Waterford, a near-by town.
[Illustration: "Hello, Dad," Said Tom]
"How goes it with you, son?" asked Mr. Swift when Tom returned from
seeing his guest to the door. "Your new space eye, as you call it--is it
working out?"
"I think so, Dad, but wait until I get the big model built!"
[Illustration: Tom Saw Mr. Damon to the Door]
"Genmens, dinnah am serbed!" An old negro thrust his white-fringed
head through the library door. "An' it sho' am good!" Eradicate Sampson,
so-called for his work in younger days of eradicating dirt from the
homes of Shopton, had been attached to the Swift household for many
years and now regarded himself as one of the family.
As they sat at table the conversation of the three turned naturally to
Tom's latest invention. Mr. Swift had not heard yet all Tom's ideas of
the proposed telescope and was full of eager questions.
[Illustration: Eradicate Sampson]
"Just how long do you think it will take to make your big disk, son?"
asked Mr. Swift. "That is, if you find any more of the new material."
"The meteorite is already on board a north-bound freight steamer,"
answered Tom, "and ought to get here within the next ten days. It'll
require at least three weeks to extract all the X and cast it into
shape. Taking everything into consideration, I should say it will be
at least six weeks before we can test the device. The matter depends
entirely on finding a lot of X in the planet stone. But I'm sure I
shall."
[Illustration: "The Meteorite Is Northbound!"]
After dinner the boys went over to the main office of the Swift
Construction Company to clear up a number of routine business matters
which required Tom's personal attention. He had postponed them for a
while to give more time to his new experiments.
[Illustration: The Boys Went to the Main Office]
"Now, young fellow, I'm not letting you get away until you've looked
over these papers!" declared Ned, pretending to threaten his chum with a
yardstick. "I've been after you for a week about 'em!"
Tom dodged and pretended to be scared. "You're right, though," he
admitted.
The two worked rapidly. Within an hour the seemingly endless stack of
documents had shrunk to a few letters and bills. Just as Ned was
reaching for one of them the telephone rang in the outer office.
[Illustration: The Two Worked Rapidly]
"I'll get it, Tom," his chum said.
"Sit still," replied the young inventor. "I'll switch it to my private
phone."
"Tom Swift speaking," he said into the mouthpiece a moment later. "Oh,
hello, Mrs. Damon. What's that? But I don't understand. No, there must
be some mistake!" A loud click sounded in the receiver and Tom jerked
the instrument from his ear.
"What's wrong?" asked Ned, noting his friend's serious face.
[Illustration: Tom Jerked the Instrument From His Ear]
"Mr. Damon's been hurt in an auto accident. For some reason his wife is
blaming it on me! Come, we must get to the hospital at once!"
[Illustration: "Mr. Damon's Been Hurt!"]