Tom Swift And His Photo Telephone
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift And His Photo Telephone
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"I'll get it for you," offered Tom, as he pulled it off. "There is
one missing, though," he said, as he handed the button to the man.
And then Tom started as he saw the pattern of the one in his hand.
"One gone? That's too bad," murmured Mr. Boylan. "Those buttons
were imported, and I doubt if I can replace them. They are rather
odd."
"Yes," agreed Tom, gazing as if fascinated at the one he still
held. "They are rather odd."
And then, as he passed it over, like a flash it came to him where
he had seen a button like that before. He had found it in his
airship, which had been so mysteriously taken away and returned.
Tom could hardly restrain his impatience until Mr. Boylan had
gone. The young inventor had half a notion to produce the other
button, matching the one he had just pulled off his visitor's
coat, and tell where he had found it. But he held himself back. He
wanted to talk first to Ned.
And, when his chum came in, Tom cried:
"Ned, what do you think? I know who had my airship!"
"How?" asked Ned, in wonder.
"By that button clue! Yes, it's the same kind--they're as alike as
twins!" and Tom brought out the button which he had put away in
his desk. "See, Boylan had one just like this on the back of his
coat. The other was missing. Here it is--it was in the seat of my
airship, where it was probably pulled off as he moved about. Ned,
I think I've got the right clue at last."
Ned said nothing for several seconds. Then he remarked slowly:
"Well, Tom, it proves one thing; but not the other."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it may be perfectly true that the button came off Mr.
Boylan's coat, but that doesn't prove that he wore it. You can be
reasonably sure that the coat was having a ride in your Eagle, but
was Boylan in the coat? That's the question."
"In the coat? Of course he was in it!" cried Tom.
"You can't be sure. Someone may have borrowed his coat to take a
midnight ride in the airship."
"Mr. Boylan doesn't look to be the kind of a man who would lend
his clothes," remarked Tom.
"You never can tell. Someone may have borrowed it without his
knowledge. You'd better go a bit slow, Tom."
"Well, maybe I had. But it's a clue, anyhow."
Ned agreed to this.
"And all I've got to do is to find out who was in the coat when it
was riding about in my airship," went on Tom.
"Yes," said Ned, "and then maybe you'll have some clue to the
disappearance of Mr. Damon."
"Right you are! Come on, let's get busy!"
"As if we hadn't been busy all the while!" laughed Ned. "I'll lose
my place at the bank if I don't get back soon."
"Oh, stay a little longer--a few days," urged Tom. "I'm sure that
something is going to happen soon. Anyhow my photo telephone is
about perfected. But I've just thought of another improvement."
"What is it?"
"I'm going to arrange a sort of dictaphone, or phonograph, so I
can get a permanent record of what a person says over the wire, as
well as get a picture of him saying it. Then everything will be
complete. This last won't be hard to do, as there are several
machines on the market now, for preserving a record of telephone
conversations. I'll make mine a bit different, though."
"Tom, is there any limit to what you're going to do?" asked Ned,
admiringly.
"Oh, yes, I'm going to stop soon, and retire," laughed the young
inventor.
After talking the matter over, Tom and his chum decided to wait a
day or so before taking any action in regard to the button clue to
the takers of the airship. After all, no great harm had been done,
and Tom was more anxious to locate Mr. Damon, and try to get back
his fortune, as well as to perfect his photo telephone, than he
was to discover those who had helped themselves to the Eagle.
Tom and Ned put in some busy days, arranging the phonograph
attachment. It was easy, compared to the hard work of sending a
picture over the wire. They paid several visits to Mrs. Damon, but
she had no news of her missing husband, and, as the days went by,
she suffered more and more under the strain.
Finally Tom's new invention was fully completed. It was a great
success, and he not only secured pictures of Ned and others over
the wire, as he talked to them, but he imprinted on wax cylinders,
to be reproduced later, the very things they said.
It was a day or so after he had demonstrated his new attachment
for the first time, that Tom received a most urgent message from
Mrs. Damon.
"Tom," she said, over the telephone, "I wish you would call.
Something very mysterious has happened."
"Mr. Damon hasn't come back; has he?" asked Tom eagerly.
"No--but I wish I could say he had. This concerns him, however.
Can you come?"
"I'll be there right away."
In his speedy monoplane Tom soon reached Waterford. Ned did not
accompany him this time.
"Now what is it, Mrs. Damon?" asked the young inventor.
"About half an hour before I called you," she said, "I received a
mysterious message."
"Who brought it?" asked Tom quickly.
"No one. It came over the telephone. Someone, whose voice I did
not know, said to me: 'Sign the land papers, and send them to us,
and your husband will be released.'"
"That message came over the wire?" cried Tom, excitedly.
"Yes," answered Mrs. Damon. "Oh, I am so frightened! I don't know
what to do!" and the lady burst into tears.
CHAPTER XVIII
ANOTHER CALL
Tom Swift, for the moment, did not know what to do. It was a
strange situation, and one he had never thought of. What did the
mysterious message mean? He must think it all out, and plan some
line of action. Clearly Mrs. Damon was not able to do so.
"Now let's get at this in some kind of order," suggested the
youth, when Mrs. Damon had calmed herself. It was his habit to
have a method about doing things. "And don't worry," he advised.
"I am certain some good will come of this. It proves one thing,
that's sure."
"What is it, Tom?"
"That Mr. Damon is alive and well. Otherwise the message would not
have said he would be 'released.' It wasn't from anyone you know;
was it?"
"No, I'm sure I never heard the voice before."
Tom paused a moment to think how useful his photo telephone and
phonograph arrangement might have been in this case.
"How did the telephone call come in?" inquired the young inventor.
"In the usual way," answered Mrs. Damon. "The bell rang, and, as I
happened to be near the instrument, I answered it, as I often do,
when the maid is busy. A voice asked if I was Mrs. Damon, and of
course I said I was. Then I heard this: 'Sign the land papers, and
send them to us, and your husband will be released.'"
"Was that all?" Tom asked.
"I think so--I made a note of it at the time." Mrs. Damon looked
into a small red book. "No, that wasn't all," she said, quickly.
"I was so astonished, at hearing those strange words about my
husband, that I didn't know what to say. Before I could ask any
questions the voice went on to say, rather abruptly: 'We will call
you again.'"
"That's good!" cried Tom. "I only hope they do it while I am here.
Perhaps I can get some clue as to who it was called you. But was
this all you heard?"
"Yes, I'm sure that was all. I had forgotten about the last words,
but I see I have them written down in my note book."
"Did you ask any questions?" inquired Tom.
"Oh, indeed I did! As soon as I got over being stunned by what I
heard, I asked all sorts of questions. I demanded to know who was
speaking, what they meant, where they were, and all that. I begged
them to tell me something of my husband."
"And what did they say?"
"Not a thing. There wasn't a sound in the telephone. The receiver
was hung up, breaking the connection after that message to me--
that mysterious message."
"Yes, it was mysterious," agreed Tom, thoughtfully. "I can't
understand it. But didn't you try to learn from the central
operator where the call had come from?"
"Oh, yes, indeed, Tom! As soon as I found out the person speaking
to me had rung off, I got the girl in the exchange."
"And what did she say?"
"That the call came from an automatic pay station in a drug store
in town. I have the address. It was one of those telephones where
you put your money for the call in a slot."
"I see. Well, the first thing to do is for me to go to that drug
store and find out, if I can, who used the telephone about that
time. It's a slim chance, but we'll have to take it. Was it a
man's voice, or a woman's?"
"Oh, a man's, I'm sure. It was very deep and heavy. No woman could
speak like that."
"So much is settled, anyhow. Now about the land papers--what was
meant?"
"I'll tell you," said Mrs. Damon. "You know part of our property--
considerable land and some buildings--is in my name. Mr. Damon had
it fixed so a number of years ago, in order to protect me. No one
could get this property, and land, unless I signed the deeds, or
agreed to sign them. Now all of Mr. Damon's fortune is tied up in
some of Mr. Peters's companies. That is why my husband has
disappeared."
"He didn't disappear--he was taken away against his will; I'm
positive of that!" exclaimed Tom.
"Perhaps so," agreed Mrs. Damon, sadly. "But those are the papers
referred to, I'm sure."
"Probably," assented Tom. "The rascals want to get control of
everything--even your possessions. Not satisfied with ruining Mr.
Damon, they want to make you a beggar, too. So they are playing on
your fears. They promise to release your husband if you will give
them the land."
"Yes, that must be it, Tom. What would you advise me to do? I am
so frightened over this!"
"Do? Don't you do anything!" cried Tom. "We'll fool these rascals
yet. If they got those papers they might release Mr. Damon, or
they might not--fearing he would cause their arrest later. But
we'll have him released anyhow, and we'll save what is left of
your fortune. Put those land papers in a safe-deposit box, and let
me do the rest. I'm going to catch those fellows!"
"But how, Tom? You don't know who they are. And a mere message
over a telephone won't give you a clue to where they are."
"Perhaps not an ordinary message," agreed Tom. "But I'm going to
try some of my new inventions. You said they told you they were
going to call again?"
"That's what they said, Tom."
"Well, when they do, I want to be here. I want to listen to that
message. If you will allow me, I'll take up my residence here for
a while, Mrs. Damon."
"Allow you? I'll be only too glad if you will, Tom. But I thought
you were going to try to get some clue from the drug store where
the mysterious message came from."
"I'll let Ned Newton do that. I want to stay here."
Tom telephoned to Ned to meet him at Mrs. Damon's house, and also
to bring with him certain things from the laboratory. And when Ned
arrived in an auto, with various bits of apparatus, Tom put in
some busy hours.
Meanwhile Ned was sent to the drug store, to see if any clues
could be obtained there as to who had sent the message. As Tom had
feared, nothing could be learned. There were several automatic
'phones in the place, and they were used very often during the day
by the public. The drug clerks took little or no notice of the
persons entering or leaving the booths, since the dropping of a
coin in the slot was all that was necessary to be connected with
central.
"Well, we've got to wait for the second call here," said Tom, who
had been busy during Ned's absence. He had fitted to Mrs. Damon's
telephone a recording wax phonograph cylinder, to get a record of
the speaker's voice. And he had also put in an extension
telephone, so that he could listen while Mrs. Damon talked to the
unknown.
"There, I guess we're ready for them," said Tom, late that
afternoon. But no queer call came in that day. It was the next
morning. about ten o'clock, after Mrs. Damon had passed a restless
night, that the telephone bell rang. Tom, who was on the alert,
was at his auxiliary instrument in a flash. He motioned to Mrs.
Damon to answer on the main wire.
"Hello," she spoke into the transmitter. "Who is this?"
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" Tom heard come over the wire in a deep
voice, and by the manner in which Mrs. Damon signalled the young
inventor knew that, at the other end of the line, was the
mysterious man who had spoken before.
CHAPTER XIX
THE BUZZING SOUND
"Are you Mrs. Damon?" came the question again--rather more
impatiently this time, Tom thought.
"Yes," answered the lady, glancing over at Tom. The extension
telephone was in the same room. Softly Tom switched on the
phonograph attachment. The little wax cylinder began to revolve
noiselessly, ready to record the faintest word that came over the
wire.
"You got a message from me yesterday," went on the hoarse voice.
In vain Tom tried to recall whether or not he had heard it before.
He could not place it.
"Who are you?" asked Mrs. Damon. She and Tom had previously agreed
on a line of talk. "Tell me your name, please."
"There's no need for any names to be used," went on the unknown at
the other end of the wire. "You heard what I said yesterday. Are
you willing to send me those land title papers, if we release your
husband?"
"But where shall I send them?" asked Mrs. Damon, to gain time.
"You'll be told where. And listen--no tricks! You needn't try to
find out who I am, nor where I am. Just send those papers if you
want to see your husband again."
"Oh, how is he? Tell me about him! You are cruel to keep him a
prisoner like this! I demand that you release him!"
Tom had not told Mrs. Damon to say this. It came out of her own
heart--she could not prevent the agonized outburst.
"Never mind about that, now," came the gruff voice over the wire.
"Are you willing to send the papers?"
Mrs. Damon looked over to Tom for silent instructions. He nodded
his head in assent.
"Yes, I--I will send them if you tell me where to get them to you
--if you will release Mr. Damon," said the anxious wife. "But tell
me who you are--and where you are!" she begged.
"None of that! I'm not looking to be arrested. You get the papers
ready, and I'll let you know to-morrow, about this time, where to
send them."
"Wait a minute!" called Mrs. Damon, to gain more time. "I must
know just what papers you want."
"All right, I'll tell you," and he began to describe the different
ones.
It took a little time for the unknown to give this information to
Mrs. Damon. The man was very particular about the papers. There
were trust deeds, among other things, and he probably thought that
once he had possession of them, with Mrs. Damon's signature, even
though it had been obtained under a threat, he could claim the
property. Later it was learned that such was not the case, for
Mrs. Damon, with Tom's aid, could have proved the fraud, had the
scoundrels tried to get the remainder of the Damon fortune.
But at the time it seemed to the helpless woman that everything
she owned would be taken from her. Though she said she did not
care, as long as Mr. Damon was restored to her.
As I have said, the telephoning of the instructions about the
papers took some time. Tom had counted on this, and had made his
plans accordingly.
As soon as the telephone call had come in, Tom had communicated
with a private detective who was in waiting, and this man had gone
to the drug store whence the first call had come. He was going to
try to make the arrest of the man telephoning.
But for fear the scoundrel would go to a different instrument, Tom
took another precaution. This was to have one of the operators in
the central exchange on the watch. As soon as Mrs. Damon's house
was in connection with another telephone, the location of the
latter would be noted, and another private detective would be sent
there. Thus Tom hoped to catch the man at the 'phone.
Meanwhile Tom listened to the hoarse voice at the other end of the
wire, giving the directions to Mrs. Damon. Tom hoped that soon
there would be an arrest made.
Meanwhile the talk was being faithfully recorded on the phonograph
cylinder. And, as the man talked on, Tom became aware of a curious
undercurrent of sound. It was a buzzing noise, that Tom knew did
not come from the instrument itself. It was not the peculiar
tapping, singing noise heard in a telephone receiver, caused by
induced electrical currents, or by wire trouble.
"This is certainly different," mused Tom. He was trying to recall
where he had heard the noise before. Sometimes it was faint, and
then it would gradually increase, droning off into faintness once
more. Occasionally it was so loud that Mrs. Damon could not hear
the talk about the papers, and the man would have to repeat.
But finally he came to an end.
"This is all now," he said, sharply. Tom heard the words above the
queer, buzzing, humming sound. "You are keeping me too long. I
think you are up to some game, but it won't do you any good, Mrs.
Damon. I'll 'phone you to-morrow where to send the papers. And if
you don't send them--if you try any tricks--it will be the worse
for you and Mr. Damon!"
There was a click, that told of a receiver being placed back on
the hook, and the voice ceased. So, also, did the queer, buzzing
sound over which Tom puzzled.
"What can it have been?" he asked. "Did you hear it, Mrs. Damon?"
"What, Tom?"
"That buzzing sound."
"Yes, I heard, but I didn't know what it was. Oh, Tom, what shall
I do?"
"Don't worry. We'll see if anything happened. They may have caught
that fellow. If not I'll plan another scheme."
Tom's first act was to call up the telephone exchange to learn
where the second call had come from. He got the information at
once. The address was in the suburbs. The man had not gone to the
drug store this time.
"Did the detective get out to that address?" asked Tom eagerly of
the manager.
"Yes. As soon as we were certain that he was the party you wanted,
your man got right after him, Mr. Swift."
"That's good, I hope he catches him!" cried the young inventor. "We'll
have to wait and find out."
"He said he'd call up and let you know as soon as he reached the
place," the telephone manager informed Tom.
There was nothing to do but wait, and meanwhile Tom did what he
could to comfort Mrs. Damon. She was quite nervous and inclined to
be hysterical, and the youth thought it wise to have a cousin, who
had come to stay with her, summon the doctor.
"But, Tom, what shall I do about those papers?" Mrs. Damon asked
him. "Shall I send them?"
"Indeed not!"
"But I want Mr. Damon restored to me," she pleaded. "I don't care
about the money. He can make more."
"Well, we'll not give those scoundrels the satisfaction of getting
any money out of you. Just wait now, I'll work this thing out, and
find a way to catch that fellow. If I could only think what that
buzzing sound was--"
Then, in a flash, it came to Tom.
"A sawmill! A planing mill!" he cried. "That's what it was! That
fellow was telephoning from some place near a sawmill!"
The telephone rang in the midst of Tom's excited comments.
"Yes--yes!" he called eagerly. "Who is it--what is it?"
"This is Larsen--the private detective you sent."
"Oh, yes, you were at the drug store."
"Yes, Mr. Swift. Well, that party didn't call up from here."
"I know, Larsen. It was from another station. We're after him.
Much obliged to you. Come on back."
Tom was sure his theory was right. The man had called up the Damon
house from some telephone near a sawmill. And a little later Tom's
theory was proved to be true. He got a report from the second
detective. Unfortunately the man had not been able to reach the
telephone station before the unknown speaker had departed.
"Was the place near a sawmill?" asked Tom, eagerly.
"It was," answered the detective over the wire. "The telephone is
right next door to one. It's an automatic pay station and no one
seems to have noticed who the man was who telephoned. I couldn't
get a single clue. I'm sorry."
"Never mind," said Tom, as cheerfully as he could. "I think I'm on
the right track now. I'm going to lay a trap for this fellow."
CHAPTER XX
SETTING THE TRAP
Troublesome problems seemed to be multiplying for Tom Swift. He
admitted as much himself after the failure to capture the man who
had telephoned to Mrs. Damon. He had hoped that his plan of
sending detectives to the location of the telephones would
succeed. Since it had not the youth must try other means.
"Now, Ned," he said to his chum, when they were on their way from
Mrs. Damon's, it being impossible to do anything further there.
"Now, Ned, we've got to think this thing out together."
"I'm willing, Tom. I'll do what I can."
"I know you will. Now the thing to do is to go at this thing
systematically. Otherwise we'll be working around in a circle, and
won't get anywhere. In the first place, let's set down what we do
know. Then we'll put down what we don't know, and go after that."
"Put down what you don't know?" exclaimed Ned. "How are you going
to put down a thing when you don't know it?"
"I mean we can put a question mark after it, so to speak. For
instance we don't know where Mr. Damon is, but we want to find
out."
"Oh, I see. Well, let's start off with the things we do know."
The two friends were at Tom's house by now, having come from
Waterford in Tom's airship. After thinking over all the exciting
happenings of the past few days, Tom remarked: "Now, Ned, for the
things we do know. In the first place Mr. Damon is missing, and
his fortune is about gone. There is considerable left to Mrs.
Damon, however, but those scoundrels may get that away from her,
if we don't watch out. Secondly, my airship was taken and brought
back, with a button more than it had when it went away. Said
button exactly matched one off Mr. Boylan's coat."
"Thirdly, Mr. Damon was either taken away or went away, in an
airship--either in mine or someone else's. Fourthly, Mrs. Damon
has received telephonic communications from the man, or men, who
have her husband. Fifthly, Mr. Peters, either legally or
illegally, is responsible for the loss of Mr. Damon's fortune.
Now: there you are--for the things we do know."
"Now for the things we don't know. We don't know who has taken
Mr. Damon away, nor where he is, to begin with the most important."
"Hold on, Tom, I think you're wrong," broke in Ned.
"In what way?"
"About not knowing who is responsible for the taking away of Mr.
Damon. I think it's as plain as the nose on your face that Peters
is responsible."
"I can't see it that way," said Tom, quickly. "I will admit that
it looks as though Boylan had been in my airship, but as for
Peters taking Mr. Damon away--why, Peters is around town all the
while, and if he had a hand in the disappearance of Mr. Damon, do
you think he'd stay here, when he knows we are working on the
case? And would he send Boylan to see me if Boylan had been one of
those who had a hand in it? They wouldn't dare, especially as they
know I'm working on the case."
"Peters is a bad lot. I'll grant you, though, he was fair enough
to pay for my motor boat. I don't believe he had anything to do
with taking Mr. Damon away."
"Do you think he was the person who was talking to Mrs. Damon
about the papers?"
"No, Ned. I don't. I listened to that fellow's voice carefully. It
wasn't like Peters's. I'm going to put it in the phonograph, too,
and let you listen to it. Then see what you say."
Tom did this, a little later. The record of the voice, as it came
over the wire, was listened to from the wax cylinder, and Ned had
to admit that it was not much like that of the promoter.
"Well, what's next to be done?" asked the young banker.
"I'm going to set a trap," replied Tom, with a grin.
"Set a trap?"
"Yes, a sort of mouse-trap. I'm glad my photo telephone is now
perfected, Ned."
"What has that got to do with it?"
"That's going to be my trap, Ned. Here is my game. You know this
fellow--this strange unknown--is going to call up Mrs. Damon
to-morrow. Well, I'll be ready for him. I'm going to put in the booth
where he will telephone from, one of my photo telephones--that is, the
sending apparatus. In Mrs. Damon's house, attached to her telephone,
will be the receiving plate, as well as the phonograph cylinder."
"When this fellow starts to talk he'll be sending us his picture,
though he won't know it, and we'll be getting a record of his
voice. Then we'll have him just where we want him."
"Good!" cried Ned. "But, Tom, there's a weak spot in your mouse-
trap."
"What is it?"
"How are you going to know which telephone the unknown will call
up from? He may go to any of a hundred, more or less."
"He might--yes. But that's a chance we've got to take. It isn't so
much of a chance, though when you stop to think that he will
probably go to some public telephone in an isolated spot, and,
unless I'm much mistaken he will go to a telephone near where he
was to-day. He knows that was safe, since we didn't capture him,
and he's very likely to come back."
"But to make the thing as sure as possible, I'm going to attach my
apparatus to a number of public telephones in the vicinity of the
one near the sawmill. So if the fellow doesn't get caught in one,
he will in another. I admit it's taking a chance; but what else
can we do?"
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