A CHANGE OF PLANS
MARY came to the door of the hotel and looked out where Tom Swift was
pacing up and down, while Mrs. Jardine watched him anxiously.
“Oh, Tom!” Mary called.
“Yes,” he answered, starting out of his troubled reverie. “What is it?”
“Will you make up a hand at bridge? We are one short, and mother is so
fond of her game. Mr. Damon, too.”
“Oh, all right,” Tom answered, with a glance at Mrs. Jardine. “Will you
excuse me?” he said to her.
“Certainly,” she murmured.
No one, probably, ever felt less like playing bridge than did Tom Swift
that evening after having heard the disquieting news. He could not get
it out of his mind, and yet he must. So he forced himself to exchange
light hotel gossip with his wife and the others and, in addition, had to
remember what was trumps, whether the lead was in the hand of the dummy
or elsewhere, and keep track of the cards played. It was hard work, but
he and Mary managed to take the odd trick more than once and won the
rubber against Mr. Damon and Mrs. Nestor.
But all the while he was wondering how he could get another talk with
Mrs. Jardine and find out more particulars without letting Mary and his
father know the disastrous news. For it was disastrous in several ways.
It was a blow to the prestige of the Swift plant and a big money loss if
they were to have the big dirigible left on their hands.
“I ought to get word back to Ned and Mr. Jackson to stop everything if
what Mrs. Jardine tells me is true,” mused Tom, as he walked out on the
veranda after the game to get a breath of outer air before going to bed.
Then he saw Mrs. Jardine again and as Mary had remained inside, Tom had
a clear coast for extracting information.
But a further talk only confirmed what Mrs. Jardine had first told
him—that her brother-in-law, Martin Jardine, was an irresponsible
schemer and had, several times before, involved the firm in enterprises
which had to be abandoned.
“He has wonderful ideas sometimes,” Mrs. Jardine said of Martin. “But he
is a dreamer and is also very eccentric. I have no authority for telling
you to stop work; but that would be my advice. I have tried to get in
touch with my husband in Mexico. I have sent messages to several places
where he may call, and I have told him to communicate with you at your
shop at once.”
“Thank you. I shall take your advice and cease work on the dirigible,
pending some word from your husband. And I think I had better get back
to headquarters to receive any messages that may come from him. He would
not know I am here, and if he called up my shop, no one there would feel
authorized to do what he told them; but I’ll take precautionary
measures.”
This Tom Swift did at once by sending a night letter to Mr. Jackson,
telling him to stop work on the dirigible until the young inventor could
get back.
“This is the second time my temporary vacation has been cut short,” Tom
mused, as he went up to his room, planning to leave early the next
morning. “Confound that crazy Martin Jardine, anyhow!”
Mary was disappointed, of course, when Tom told her he had to go away
again; but when he explained that it had to do with the dirigible she
made no objections, for she knew what the completion of the _Silver
Cloud_ would mean to Tom Swift’s reputation. Nor did he tell her how
near the project was to being wrecked. Neither did he say anything to
his father, for Mr. Swift needed quiet and repose. Time enough for that
when he himself knew more of the situation.
Tom appeared at the works two days later, to find Ned, Mr. Jackson, and
the foremen of the various shops in a quandary over his message to cease
operations.
“What’s the idea?” Ned asked, for Tom’s telegram had not gone into
details. He did not want word of the fiasco to get out. “Stopping work
on the biggest thing we’ve ever turned out, Tom!”
“It had to be done,” Tom said, regretfully enough. “It may be only
temporary, but I fear for the worst. I’m expecting a message any time
now.”
“It will be a shame to have to scrap all this,” said Garret Jackson,
looking up at the huge mass towering over their heads in the hangar.
“Why, a couple of weeks more, and she’ll be ready for the air!”
“It is too bad,” Tom said. “It will mean a big money loss to us.”
“Yes,” assented Ned. “It has cost a lot more than we originally
calculated on, and though Jardine has met his payments according to
contract, they have not been enough. We should have stipulated for more
money.”
“I don’t believe we’ll get any more,” said Tom grimly, and he related
all Mrs. Lawrence Jardine had told him about her erratic brother-in-law.
Tom and his intimate associates were in consultation over the matter
when the telephone in the private office rang and when the girl
announced “long distance,” Tom had a feeling, he said later, that it had
something to do with the Jardine matter.
This proved true, for Tom soon heard the voice of Lawrence Jardine
talking to him from Mexico City and saying:
“Stop all work on that dirigible ordered by my brother. He had no
authority to go ahead.”
“Isn’t your firm responsible?” Tom inquired.
“Not in this case. Martin acted beyond his rights. We shall not make any
further payments.”
“I think you are bound to,” Tom said quietly.
“Nothing doing, Mr. Swift. I am on my way home and I’ll stop to see you.
But don’t finish that airship!”
“I won’t—that is, not for your firm,” Tom replied. “But it seems a pity
to scrap it. All right, Mr. Jardine. I’ll wait until I see you up here.”
It was tedious waiting in Shopton until the older brother and real head
of the Jardine firm should arrive from Mexico; but there was nothing
else to do. So all work on the dirigible was halted. Meanwhile Tom Swift
tried to get in touch with the eccentric Martin, but without effect.
At length, one day while Tom was in his office, Koku came in, very
quietly for so big a man, and announced:
“Mans to see you, Master.”
“Show him in,” Tom directed, as Koku handed him the card of Lawrence
Jardine.
The young inventor was soon face to face with the older brother and real
head of the Jardine company. Lawrence Jardine was a hard-headed business
man, quite different from the eternal cigar-smoking Martin. Though he
had good business sense, he could not be moved from his position that as
the dirigible was ordered by Martin, the latter was without authority
and the firm would repudiate the matter. Tom and Ned talked it over and
realized that Lawrence Jardine was within his legal rights.
“But there is a moral side to it,” Tom said. “I took this order from
your brother in good faith, and he seemed cloaked with full authority to
enter into negotiations.”
“Martin is a fool!” burst out his brother. “It isn’t the first time he
has dangerously involved our concern and spent money foolishly. No, I’m
through, and I won’t have the dirigible at any price!”
“Won’t you take a look at it first?” suggested Ned. “It will be a big
advertisement for your oralum metal plates.”
“It’s entirely too big an advertisement!” snapped Lawrence. “I tell you,
I don’t want it!”
Tom tried to influence him, telling him of the various advantages of the
new dirigible, how far it could cruise, and what a load it could carry
above the clouds, but the head of the Jardine company was obdurate.
“I’m through!” he said, and his voice cracked like a whip.
“Well,” remarked Ned, “there are certain uncompleted payments your
brother promised to make, amounting to several thousand dollars. We are
entitled to them.”
“Try to get the money!” retorted Lawrence.
“That’s plain crooked!” exploded Tom.
“Don’t you call me crooked!” fired back the other.
“Well, your brother is.”
“Not so much crooked as a fool. You can sue if you like, but I’ll not
accept the dirigible and you’ll get no more money!”
There followed a hot and heavy discussion, bordering on a quarrel, but
Lawrence Jardine could not be moved and in the end he stamped out of the
office, leaving Tom and Ned defeated.
“Well, what’s next to be done, Tom?” Ned asked, looking at the plans,
specifications, and contracts having to do with the _Silver Cloud_. His
desk was littered with them.
“Hanged if I know,” Tom said moodily.
“Do you think you could sell the dirigible as she is, perhaps to the
United States or Germany?” asked Ned. “It would beat even the _Graf
Zeppelin_.”
“I might make a sale,” assented Tom listlessly. “But it would take
negotiations of nearly a year to bring it about. Meanwhile everything
would be tied up.”
“You think the airship will be a success, don’t you Tom?”
“Sure, she’ll be a success!” cried the young inventor. “I’m positive of
that. Even if the oralum did come from those crazy Jardines, it’s a
wonderful metal. It wouldn’t take much to put the _Silver Cloud_ in
running order.”
“It would be a big feather in the cap of the Swift company if you could
get it going, Tom,” said Ned.
Then, suddenly, a great change came over Tom Swift. He fairly jumped
from his chair, his eyes shining, and exclaimed:
“I’ll do it! Bless my propellers, as Mr. Damon would say, but I’ll do
it!”
“Do what?” asked Ned.
“I’ll finish the dirigible for myself! It will be mine from top to
bottom and end to end! I’ll keep the name, but nothing else. I’ll own
the _Silver Cloud_!”
“Good for you!” shouted Ned as enthusiastically as his chum. “But can
you manage it?” he added more soberly.
“Yes. We’ll make new plans. Oh, I don’t mean to change the plan of the
airship,” he went on, as Ned looked at the mass of papers. “She is too
nearly completed for that. But we’ll think up some plan to raise the
rest of the money needed, and I’ll finish and own this ship myself!”
“Then you and I’ll go sailing in it!” cried Ned.
“Surest thing you know!” exclaimed Tom. “Send Mr. Jackson here and I’ll
issue orders to rush the work to completion!”