Tom Swift And His Photo Telephone
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift And His Photo Telephone
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"Where to now?"
"Peters's house. He's probably there, arranging to cover up his
tracks when he lights out."
But Shallock Peters did better than merely cover up his tracks. He
covered himself up, so to speak. For when Ned and Tom, after a
quick flight in the airship, reached his house, the promoter had
left, and the servants, who were quite excited, did not know where
he had gone.
"He just packed up a few clothes and ran out," said one of the
maids. "He didn't say anything about our wages, either, and he
owes me over a month."
"Me too," said another.
"Well, if he doesn't pay me some of my back wages soon, I'll sue
him!" declared the gardener. "He owes me more than three months,
but he kept putting me off."
And, so it seemed, Peters had done with several of his employes.
When the promoter came to Shopton he had taken an elaborate house
and engaged a staff of servants. Peters was not married, but he
gave a number of entertainments to which the wealthy men of
Shopton and their wives came. Later it was found that the bills
for these had never been paid. In short, Peters was a "bluff" in
more ways than one.
Tom told enough of his story to the servants to get them on his
side. Indeed, now that their employer had gone, and under such
queer circumstances, they had no sympathy for him. They were only
concerned about their own money, and Tom was given admittance to
the house.
Tom made a casual search, hoping to find some clue to the
whereabouts of Mr. Damon, or to get some papers that would save
his fortune. But the search was unsuccessful.
There was a safe in the room Peters used for an office, but when
Tom got there the strong box was open, and only some worthless
documents remained.
"He smelled a rat, all right," said Tom, grimly. "After he
telephoned to Mrs. Damon something happened that gave him an
intimation that someone was after him. So he got away as soon as
he could."
"But what are you going to do about it, Tom?"
"Get right after him. He can't have gotten very far. I want him
and I want Boylan. We're getting close to the end of the trail,
Ned."
"Yes, but we haven't found Mr. Damon yet, and his fortune seems to
have vanished."
"Well, we'll do the best we can," said Tom, grimly. "Now I'm going
to get a warrant for the arrest of Peters, and one for Boylan, and
I'm going to get myself appointed a special officer with power to
serve them. We've got our work cut out for us, Ned."
"Well, I'm with you to the end."
"I know you are!" cried Tom.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE LONELY HOUSE
The young inventor had little difficulty in getting the warrants
he sought. In the case of Boylan, who seemed to be Peters's right-
hand man, when it came to criminal work, Tom made a charge of
unlawfully taking the airship. This would be enough to hold the
man on until other evidence could be obtained against him.
As for Peters, he was accused of taking certain valuable bonds and
stocks belonging to Mr. Damon. Mrs. Damon gave the necessary
evidence in this case, and the authorities were told that later,
when Peters should have been arrested, other evidence so
skillfully gotten by Tom's photo telephone, would be brought
before the court.
"It's a new way of convicting a man--by a photo telephone--but I
guess it's a good one," said the judge who signed the warrants.
"Well, now that we've got what we want, the next thing to do is to
get the men--Peters, and the others," said Tom, as he and Ned sat
in Tom's library after several hours of strenuous work.
"How are you going to start?" the young banker wanted to know. "It
seems a strange thing that a man like Mr. Damon could be made away
with, and kept in hiding so long without something being heard of
him. I'm afraid, Tom, that something must have happened to him."
"I think so too, Ned. Nothing serious, though," Tom added,
quickly, as he saw the look of alarm on his chum's face. "I think
Mr. Damon at first went away of his own accord."
"Of his own accord?"
"Yes. I think Peters induced him to go with him, on the pretense
that he could recover his fortune. After getting Mr. Damon in
their power they kept him, probably to get the rest of his fortune
away from him."
"But you stopped that, Tom," said Ned, proud of his chum's
abilities.
"Well, I hope so," admitted the young inventor. "But I've still
got plenty to do."
"Have you a starting point?"
"For one thing," Tom answered, "I'm going to have Mrs. Damon mail
a fake package to the address Peters gave. If he, or any of his
men, call for it, we'll have a detective on the watch, and arrest
them."
"Good!"
"Of course it may not work," spoke Tom; "but it's something to
try, and we can't miss any chances."
Accordingly, the next day, a package containing only blank paper,
made up to represent the documents demanded by Peters as the price
of releasing Mr. Damon, was mailed to the address Mrs. Damon had
received over the wire from the rascally promoter. Then a private
detective was engaged to be on the watch, to take into custody
whoever called for the bundle. Tom, though, had not much hope of
anything coming of this, as it was evident that Peters had taken
the alarm, and left.
"And now," said Tom, when he had safely put away the wax record,
containing the incriminating talk of Peters, and had printed
several photographs, so wonderfully taken over the wire, "now to
get on the trail again."
It was not an easy one to follow. Tom began at the deserted home
of the alleged financier. The establishment was broken up, for
many tradesmen came with bills that had not been paid, and some of
them levied on what little personal property there was to satisfy
their claims. The servants left, sorrowful enough over their
missing wages. The place was closed up under the sheriff's orders.
But of Peters and his men not a trace could be found. Tom and Ned
traveled all over the surrounding country, looking for clues, but
in vain. They made several trips in the airship, but finally
decided that an automobile was more practical for their work, and
kept to that.
They did find some traces of Peters. As Tom had said, the man was
too prominent not to be noticed. He might have disguised himself,
though it seemed that the promoter was a proud man, and liked to
be seen in flashy clothes, a silk hat, and with a buttonhole
bouquet.
This made it easy to get the first trace of him. He had been seen
to take a train at the Shopton station, though he had not bought a
ticket. The promoter had paid his fare to Branchford, a junction
point, but there all trace of him was lost. It was not even
certain that he went there.
"He may have done that to throw us off," said Tom. "Just because
he paid his way to Branchford, doesn't say he went there. He may
have gotten off at the next station beyond Shopton."
"Do you think he's still lingering around here?" asked Ned.
"I shouldn't be surprised," was Tom's answer. "He knows that there
is still some of the Damon property left, and he is probably
hungry for that. We'll get him yet, Ned."
But at the end of several days Tom's hopes did not seem in a fair
way to be realized. He and Ned followed one useless clue after
another. All the trails seemed blind ones. But Tom never gave up.
He was devoting all his time now to the finding of his friend Mr.
Damon, and to the recovery of his fortune. In fact the latter was
not so important to Tom as was the former. For Mrs. Damon was on
the verge of a nervous collapse on account of the absence of her
husband.
"If I could only have some word from him, Tom!" she cried,
helplessly.
To Tom the matter was very puzzling. It seemed utterly impossible
that Mr. Damon could be kept so close a prisoner that he could not
manage to get some word to his friends. It was not as if he was a
child. He was a man of more than ordinary abilities. Surely he
might find a way to outwit his enemies.
But the days passed, and no word came. A number of detectives had
been employed, but they were no more successful than Tom. The
latter had given up his inventive work, for the time being, to
devote all his time to the solution of the mystery.
Tom and Ned had been away from Shopton for three days, following
the most promising clue they had yet received. But it had failed
at the end, and one afternoon they found themselves in a small
town, about a hundred miles from Shopton. They had been motoring.
"I think I'll call up the house," said Tom. "Dad may have received
some news, or Mrs. Damon may have sent him some word. I'll get my
father on the wire."
Connection to Tom's house was soon made, and Ned, who was
listening to his chum's remarks, was startled to hear him cry out:
"What's that you say? My airship taken again? When did it happen?
Yes, I'm listening. Go on, Father!"
Then followed a silence while Tom listened, breaking in now and
then with an excited remark, Suddenly he called:
"Good-by, Dad! I'm coming right home!"
Tom hung up the receiver with a bang, and turned to his chum.
"What do you think!" he cried. "The Eagle was taken again last
night! The same way as before. Nobody got a glimpse of the
thieves, though. Dad has been trying to get in communication with
me ever since. I'm glad I called up. Now we'll get right back to
Shopton, and see what we can do. This is the limit! Peters and his
crowd will be kidnapping us, next."
"That's right," agreed Ned.
He and Tom were soon off again, speeding in the auto toward
Shopton. But the roads were bad, after a heavy rain, and they did
not make fast time.
The coming of dusk found them with more than thirty miles to go.
They were in an almost deserted section of the country when
suddenly, as they were running slowly up a hill, there was a
sudden crack, the auto gave a lurch to one side of the roadway and
then settled heavily. Tom clapped on both brakes quickly, and gave
a cry of dismay.
"Broken front axle!" he said. "We're dished, Ned!"
They got out, being no more harmed than by the jolting. The car
was out of commission. The two chums looked around Except for a
lonely house, that bore every mark of being deserted, not a
dwelling was in sight where they might ask for aid or shelter.
And, as they looked, from that lonely house came a strange cry--a
cry as though for help!
CHAPTER XXV
THE AIRSHIP CAPTURE
"Did you hear that?" cried Ned.
"I certainly did," answered Tom. "What was it."
"Sounded to me like a cry of some sort."
"It was. An animal, I'd say."
The two chums moved away from the broken auto, and looked at each
other. Then, by a common impulse, they started toward the lonely
house, which was set back some distance from the road.
"Let's see who it was," suggested Tom, "After all, though it looks
deserted, there may be someone in the house, and we've got to have
some kind of help. I don't want to leave my car on the road all
night, though it will have to be repaired before I can use it
again."
"It sure is a bad break," agreed Ned.
As they walked toward the deserted House they heard the strange
cry again. It was louder this time, and following it the boys
heard a sound as if a blow had been struck.
"Someone is being attacked!" cried Tom. "Maybe some poor tramp has
taken shelter in there and a dog is after them. Come on, Ned,
we've got to help!"
They started on a run for the lonely house, but while still some
distance away a curious thing happened.
There was a sudden cry--an appeal for help it seemed--but this
time in the open. And, as Tom and Ned looked, they saw several men
running from the rear of the old house. Between them they carried
an inert form,
"Something's wrong!" exclaimed Tom, "There's crooked work going on
here, Ned."
"You're right! It's up to us to stop it! Come on!"
But before the boys had taken half a dozen more steps they heard
that which caused them great surprise. For from a shed behind the
house came the unmistakable throb and roar of a motor.
"They're going off in an auto!" cried Ned.
"And they're carrying someone with them!" exclaimed Tom.
By this time they had gotten to a point where they could see the
shed, and what was their astonishment to see being rolled from it
a big biplane. At the sight of it Tom cried:
"It's the Eagle! That's my airship, Ned!"
"You're right! How did it get here?"
"That's for us to find out. I shouldn't wonder, Ned, but what
we're at last on the trail of Peters and his crowd!"
The men--there were four or five of them, Ned guessed--now broke
into a run, still carrying among them the inert form of another.
The cries for help had ceased, and it seemed as if the unfortunate
one was unconscious.
A moment later, and before the boys could do anything, had they
the power, the men fairly jumped aboard Tom Swift's biggest
airship. The unconscious one was carried with them.
Then the motor was speeded up. The roar and throbbing were almost
deafening.
"Stop that! Hold on! That's my machine!" yelled Tom.
He might as well have spoken to the wind. With a rush and a roar
the big Eagle shot away and upward, carrying the men and their
mysterious, unconscious companion. It was getting too dark for Tom
and Ned to make out the forms or features of the strangers.
"We're too late!" said Ned, hopelessly.
"Yes, they got away," agreed Tom. "Oh, if only I had my speedy
little monoplane!"
"But who can they be? How did your airship get here? And who is
that man they carried out of the house?" cried Ned.
"I don't know the last--maybe one of their crowd who was injured
in a fight."
"What crowd?"
"The Peters gang, of course. Can't you see it, Ned?"
Unable to do anything, the two youths watched the flight of the
Eagle. She did not move at her usual speed, for she was carrying
too heavy a load.
Presently from the air overhead, and slightly behind them, the
boys heard the sound of another motor. They turned quickly.
"Look!" cried Ned. "Another airship, by all that's wonderful!"
"If we could only stop them!" exclaimed Tom. "That's a big
machine, and they could take us aboard. Then we could chase the
Eagle. We could catch her, too, for she's overloaded!"
Frantically he and Tom waved their caps at the man who was now
almost overhead in his airship. The boys did not call. They well
knew, with the noise of the motor, the occupant of the airship
could not hear them. But they waved and pointed to the slowly-
moving Eagle.
To their surprise and delight the man above them shut off his
engine, and seemed about to come down. Then Tom cried, knowing he
could be heard:
"Help us capture that airship? It's mine and they've stolen it!"
"All right! Be with you in a minute!" came back the answer from
above.
The second biplane came down to earth, ands as it ceased running
along on its bicycle wheels, the occupant jumped out.
"Hello, Tom Swift!" he called, as he took off his goggles.
"Why--why it's Mr. Halling!" cried the young inventor, in delight,
recognizing the birdman who had brought him the first news of Mr.
Damon's trouble, the day the airship became entangled in the
aerials of the wireless on Tom's house.
"What are you doing here, Tom?" asked Mr. Hailing. "What has
happened?"
"We're looking for Mr. Damon. That's a bad crowd there," and he
pointed toward the other aircraft. "They have my Eagle. Can you
help me catch them?"
"I certainly can--and will! Get aboard! I can carry four."
"Then you have a new machine?"
"Yes, and a dandy! All the latest improvements--self-starter and
all! I'm glad of a chance to show it to you."
"And I'm glad, too!" cried Tom. "It was providential that you
happened along. What were you doing here?"
"Just out on a trial spin. But come on, if we're going to catch
those fellows!"
Quickly Tom, Ned, and Mr. Halling climbed into the seats of the
new airship. It was started from a switch, and in a few seconds it
was on the wing, chasing after the Eagle.
Then began a strange race, a race in the air after the unknown
strangers who had Tom's machine. Had the Eagle not been so heavily
laden it might have escaped, for Tom's craft was a speedy one. But
this time it had to give the palm to Mr. Grant Halling's. Faster
and faster in pursuit flew the Star, as the new craft was called.
Faster and faster, until at last, coming directly over the Eagle,
Mr. Halling sent his craft down in such a manner as to "blanket"
the other. In an instant she began to sink, and with cries of
alarm the men shut off the motor and started to volplane to the
earth.
But they made an unskillful landing. The Eagle tilted to one side,
and came down with a crash. There were cries of pain, then
silence, and a few seconds later two men ran away from the
disabled airship. But there were three senseless forms on the
ground beside the craft when Tom, Ned and Mr. Halling ran up. In
the fading light Tom saw a face he knew--three faces in fact.
"Mr. Damon!" he cried. "We've found him, Ned!"
"But--too late--maybe!" answered Ned, in a low voice, as he, too,
recognized the man who had been missing so long.
Mr. Halling was bending over the unconscious form of his friend.
"He's alive!" he cried, joyfully. "And not much hurt, either. But
he has been ill, and looks half starved. Who are these men?"
Tom gave a hasty look.
"Shallock Peters and Harrison Boylan!" he cried. "Ned, at last
we've caught the scoundrels!"
It was true. Chance had played into the hands of Tom Swift. While
Mr. Halling was looking after Mr. Damon, reviving him, the young
inventor and Ned quickly bound the hands and feet of the two
plotters with pieces of wire from the broken airship.
Presently Mr. Damon opened his eyes.
"Where am I? What happened? Oh, bless my watch chain--it's Tom
Swift! Bless my cigar case, I--"
"He's all right!" cried Tom, joyfully. "When Mr. Damon blesses
something beside his tombstone he's all right."
Peters and Boylan soon revived, both being merely stunned, as was
Mr. Damon. They looked about in wonder, and then, feeling that
they were prisoners, resigned themselves to their fate. Both men
were shabbily dressed, and Tom would hardly have known the once
spick and span Mr. Peters. He had no rose in his buttonhole now.
"Well, you have me, I see," he said, coolly. "I was afraid we were
playing for too high a stake."
"Yes, we've got you," replied Tom,
"But you can't prove much against me," went on Peters. "I'll deny
everything."
"We'll see about that," added the young inventor, grimly, and
thought of the picture in the plate and the record on the wax
cylinder.
"We've got to get Mr. Damon to some place where he can be looked
after," broke in Mr. Halling. "Then we'll hear the story."
A passing farmer was prevailed on to take the party in his big
wagon to the nearest town, Mr. Hailing going on ahead in his
airship. Tom's craft could not be moved, being badly damaged.
Once in town Peters and Boylan were put in jail, on the charges
for which Tom carried warrants. Mr. Damon was taken to a hotel and
a doctor summoned. It was as Mr. Halling had guessed. His friend
had been ill, and so weak that he could not get out of bed. It was
this that enabled the plotters to so easily keep him a prisoner.
By degrees Mr. Damon told his story. He had rashly allowed Peters
to get control of most of his fortune, and, in a vain hope of
getting back some of his losses, had, one night--the night he
disappeared, in fact--agreed to meet Peters and some of his men to
talk matters over. Of this Mr. Damon said nothing to his wife.
He went out that night to meet Peters in the garden, but the
plotters had changed their plans. They boldly kidnapped their
victim, chloroformed him and took him away in Tom's airship, which
Boylan and some of his tools daringly stole a short time
previously. Later they returned it, as they had no use for it at
the lonely house.
Mr. Damon was taken to the house, and there kept a prisoner. The
men hoped to prevail on the fears of his wife to make her give up
the valuable property. But we have seen how Tom foiled Peters.
The experience of Mr. Damon, coupled with rough treatment he
received, and lack of good food, soon made him ill. He was so weak
that he could not help himself, and with that he was kept under
guard. So he had no chance to escape or send his wife or friends
any word.
"But I'm all right now, Tom, thanks to you!" said he. "Bless my
pocketbook, I don't care if my fortune is lost, as long as I'm
alive and can get back to my wife."
"But I don't believe your fortune will be lost," said Tom. "I
think I have the picture and other evidence that will save it,"
and he told of his photo telephone, and of what it had
accomplished.
"Bless my eyelashes!" cried Mr. Damon. "What a young man you are,
Tom Swift!"
Tom smiled gladly. He knew now that his old friend was himself
once more.
There is little left to tell. Chance had aided Tom in a most
wonderful way--chance and the presence of Mr. Halling with his
airship at just the right moment.
Tom made a diligent effort to find out who it was that had
chloroformed him in the telephone booth that time, but learned
nothing definite. Peters and Boylan were both examined as to this
on their trials, but denied it, and the young inventor was forced
to conclude that it must have been some of the unscrupulous men
who had taken his father's patent some time before.
"They may have heard of your prosperity, and thought it a good
chance to rob you," suggested Ned.
"Maybe," agreed Tom. "Well, we'll let it go at that. Only I hope
they don't come again."
Mr. Damon was soon home with his wife again, and Peters and Boylan
were held in heavy bail. They had secreted most of Mr. Damon's
wealth, falsely telling him it was lost, and they were forced to
give back his fortune. The evidence against them was clear and
conclusive. When Tom went into court with his phonograph record of
the talk of Peters, even though the man's voice was hoarse from a
cold when he talked, and when his picture was shown, in the
telephone booth, the jury at once convicted him.
Boylan, when he learned of the missing button in Tom's possession,
confessed that he and some of his men who were birdmen had taken
Tom's airship. They wanted a means of getting Mr. Damon to the
lonely house without being traced, and they accomplished it.
As Tom had surmised, Peters had become suspicious after his last
talk with Mrs. Damon, and had fled. He disguised himself and went
into hiding with the others at the lonely house. Then he learned
that the authorities of another city. where he had swindled many,
were on his trail, and he decided to decamp with his gang, taking
Mr. Damon with them. For this purpose Tom's airship was taken the
second time, and a wholesale escape, with Mr. Damon a prisoner,
was planned.
But fate was against the plotters. Two of them did manage to get
away, but they were not really wanted. The big fish were Peters
and Boylan, and they were securely caught in the net of the law.
Peters was greatly surprised when he learned of Tom's trap, and of
the photo telephone. He had no idea he had been incriminating
himself when he talked over the wire.
"Well, it's all over," remarked Ned to Tom, one day, when the
disabled auto and the airship had been brought home and repaired.
"The plotters are in prison for long terms, and Mr. Damon is
found, together with his fortune. The photo telephone did it,
Tom."
"Not all of it--but a good bit," admitted the young inventor, with
a smile.
"What are you going to do next, Tom?"
"I hardly know. I think--"
Before Tom could finish, a voice was heard in the hall outside the
library.
"Bless my overshoes! Where's Tom? I want to thank him again for
what he did for me," and Mr. Damon, now fully recovered, came in.
"Bless my suspender button, but it's good to be alive, Tom!" he
cried.
"It certainly is," agreed Tom. "And the next time you go for a
conference with such men as Peters, look out for airships."
"I will, Tom, I will!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my watch chain,
I will!"
And now, for a time, we will say good-bye to Tom Swift, leaving
him to perfect his other inventions.
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