Tom Swift and his Great Searchlight
V >>
Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and his Great Searchlight
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10
"What are you doing?" Tom again asked. He looked around to see where
Koku, the giant, was, and beheld the big man walking slowly toward
him, for Ned had mentioned what had taken place.
"What right have you to question my actions?" asked the man, and
there was in his tones a certain authority that made Tom wonder.
"Every right," retorted our hero. "That is my airship, at which you
have been spying, and this is where I live."
"Oh, it is; eh?" asked the man calmly. "And that's your airship,
too?"
"I invented it, and built the most of it myself. If you are
interested in such things, and can assure me that you have no spying
methods in view, I can show you--"
"Have you other airships?" interrupted the man quickly.
"Yes, several," answered Tom. "But I can't understand why you should
be spying on me. If you don't care to accept my offer, like a
gentleman, tell me who you are, and what your object is, I will have
my assistant remove you. You are on private property, as this street
is not a public one, being cut through by my father. I'll have Koku
remove you by force, if you won't go peaceably, and I think you'll
agree with me that Koku can do it. Here Koku," he called sharply,
and the big man advanced quickly.
"I wouldn't do anything rash, if I were you," said the man quietly.
"As for this being private property, that doesn't concern me. You're
Tom Swift, aren't you; and you have several airships?"
"Yes, but what right have you to--"
"Every right!" interrupted the man, throwing back the lapel of his
coat, and showing a badge. "I'm Special Agent William Whitford, of
the United States Customs force, and I'd like to ask you a few
questions, Tom Swift." He looked our hero full in the face.
"Customs department!" gasped Tom. "You want to ask me some
questions?"
"That's it," went on the man, in a business-like voice.
"What about?"
"Smuggling by airship from Canada!"
"What!" cried Tom. "Do you mean to say you suspect me of being
implicated in--"
"Now go easy," advised the man calmly. "I didn't say anything,
except that I wanted to QUESTION you. If you'd like me to do it out
here, why I can. But as someone might hear us--"
"Come inside," said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating in a
tumult. "You may go, Koku, but stay within call," he added
significantly. "Come on, Ned," and he motioned to his chum who was
approaching. "This man is a custom officer and not a spy or a
detective, as we thought."
"Oh, yes, I am a SORT of a detective," corrected Mr. Whitford. "And
I'm a spy, too, in a way, for I've been spying on you, and some
other parties in town. But you may be able to explain everything,"
he added, as he took a seat in the library between Ned and Tom. "I
only know I was sent here to do certain work, and I'm going to do
it. I wanted to make some observations before you saw me, but I
wasn't quite quick enough."
"Would you mind telling me what you want to know?" asked Tom, a bit
impatiently. "You mentioned smuggling, and--"
"Smuggling!" interrupted Ned.
"Yes, over from Canada. Maybe you have seen something in the papers
about our department thinking airships were used at night to slip
the goods over the border."
"We saw it!" cried Tom eagerly. "But how does that concern me?"
"I'll come to that, presently," replied Mr. Whitford. "In the first
place, we have been roundly laughed at in some papers for proposing
such a theory. And yet it isn't so wild as it sounds. In fact, after
seeing your airship, Tom Swift, I'm convinced--"
"That I've been smuggling?" asked Tom with a laugh.
"Not at all. As you have read, we confiscated some smuggled goods
the other day, and among them was a scrap of paper with the words
Shopton, New York, on it."
"Was it a letter from someone here, or to someone here?" asked Ned.
"The papers intimated so."
"No. they only guessed at that part of it. It was just a scrap of
paper, evidently torn from a letter, and it only had those three
words on it. Naturally we agents thought we could get a clew here.
We imagined, or at least I did, for I was sent to work up this end,
that perhaps the airships for the smugglers were made here. I made
inquiries, and found that you, Tom Swift, and one other, Andy Foger,
had made, or owned, airships in Shopton."
"I came here, but I soon exhausted the possibility of Andy Foger
making practical airships. Besides he isn't at home here any more,
and he has no facilities for constructing the craft as you have. So
I came to look at your place, and I must say that it looks a bit
suspicious, Mr. Swift. Though, of course, as I said," he added with
a smile, "you may be able to explain everything."
"I think I can convince you that I had no part in the smuggling,"
spoke Tom, laughing. "I never sell my airships. If you like you may
talk with my father, the housekeeper, and others who can testify
that since my return from taking moving pictures, I have not been
out of town, and the smuggling has been going on only a little
while."
"That is true," assented the custom officer. "I shall be glad to
listen to any evidence you may offer. This is a very baffling case.
The government is losing thousands of dollars every month, and we
can't seem to stop the smugglers, or get much of a clew to them.
This one is the best we have had so far."
It did not take Tom many hours to prove to the satisfaction of Mr.
Whitford that none of our hero's airships had taken any part in
cheating Uncle Sam out of custom duties.
"Well, I don't know what to make of it," said the government agent,
with a disappointed air, as he left the office of the Shopton chief
of police, who, with others, at Tom's request, had testified in his
favor. "This looked like a good clew, and now it's knocked into a
cocked hat. There's no use bothering that Foger fellow," he went on,
"for he has but one airship, I understand."
"And that's not much good." put in Ned. "I guess it's partly
wrecked, and Andy has kept it out in the barn since he moved away."
"Well, I guess I'll be leaving town then," went on the agent. "I
can't get any more clews here, and there may be some new ones found
on the Canadian border where my colleagues are trying to catch the
rascals. I'm sorry I bothered you, Tom Swift. You certainly have a
fine lot of airships," he added, for he had been taken through the
shop, and shown the latest, noiseless model. "A fine lot. I don't
believe the smugglers, if they use them, have any better."
"Nor as good!" exclaimed Ned. "Tom's can't be beat."
"It's too late for our noiseless trial now," remarked Tom, after the
agent had gone. "Let's put her back in the shed, and then I'll take
you down street, and treat you to some ice cream, Ned. It's getting
quite summery now."
As the boys were coming out of the drug store, where they had eaten
their ice cream in the form of sundaes, Ned uttered a cry of
surprise at the sight of a man approaching them.
"It's Mr. Dillon, the carpenter whom we saw in the Foger house,
Tom!" exclaimed his chum. "This is the first chance I've had to talk
to him. I'm going to ask him what sort of repairs he's making inside
the old mansion." Ned was soon in conversation with him.
"Yes, I'm working at the Foger house," admitted the carpenter, who
had done some work for Ned's father. "Mighty queer repairs, too.
Something I never did before. If Andy wasn't there to tell me what
he wanted done I wouldn't know what to do."
"Is Andy there yet?" asked Tom quickly.
"Yes, he's staying in the old house. All alone too, except now and
then, he has a chum stay there nights with him. They get their own
meals. I bring the stuff in, as Andy says he's getting up a surprise
and doesn't want any of the boys to see him, or ask questions. But
they are sure queer repairs I'm doing," and the carpenter scratched
his head reflectively.
"What are you doing?" asked Ned boldly.
"Fixing up Andy's old airship that was once busted," was the
unexpected answer, "and after I get that done, if I ever do, he
wants me to make a platform for it on the roof of the house, where
he can start it swooping through the air. Mighty queer repairs, I
call 'em. Well, good evening, boys," and the carpenter passed on.
CHAPTER IV
SEARCHING FOR SMUGGLERS.
"Well, of all things!"
"Who in the world would think such a thing?"
"Andy going to start out with his airship again!"
"And going to sail it off the roof of his house!"
These were the alternate expressions that came from Tom and Ned, as
they stood gazing at each other after the startling information
given them by Mr. Dillon, the carpenter.
"Do you really think he means it?" asked Tom, after a pause, during
which they watched the retreating figure of the carpenter. "Maybe he
was fooling us."
"No, Mr. Dillon seldom jokes," replied Ned, "and when he does, you
can always tell. He goes to our church, and I know he wouldn't
deliberately tell an untruth. Oh. Andy's up to some game all right."
"I thought he must be hanging around here the way he has been,
instead of being home. But I admit I may have been wrong about the
police being after him. If he'd done something wrong, he would
hardly hire a man to work on the house while he was hiding in it. I
guess he just wants to keep out of the way of everybody but his own
particular cronies. But I wonder what he is up to, anyhow; getting
his airship in shape again?"
"Give it up, unless there's an aero meet on somewhere soon," replied
Ned. "Maybe he's going to try a race again."
Tom shook his head.
"I'd have heard about any aviation meets, if there were any
scheduled," he replied. "I belong to the national association, and
they send out circulars whenever there are to be races. None are on
for this season. No, Andy has some other game."
"Well, I don't know that it concerns us," spoke Ned.
"Not as long as he doesn't bother me," answered the young inventor.
"Well, Ned, I suppose you'll be over in the morning and help me try
out the noiseless airship?"
"Sure thing. Say, it was queer, about that government agent, wasn't
it? suspecting you of supplying airships to the smugglers?"
"Rather odd," agreed Tom. "He might much better suspect Andy Foger."
"That's so, and now that we know Andy is rebuilding his old airship,
maybe we'd better tell him."
"Tell who?"
"That government agent. Tell him he's wrong in thinking that Andy is
out of the game. We might send him word that we just learned that
Andy is getting active again. He has as much right to suspect and
question him, as he had you."
"Oh, I don't know," began Tom slowly. He was not a vindicative
youth, nor, for that matter, was Ned. And Tom would not go out of
his way to give information about an enemy, when it was not certain
that the said enemy meant anything wrong. "I don't believe there's
anything in it," finished our hero. "Andy may have a lot of time on
his hands, and, for want of something better to do, he's fixing up
his aeroplane."
"Look!" suddenly exclaimed Ned. "There's that agent now! He's going
to the depot to get a train, I guess," and he pointed to the
government man, who had so lately interviewed Tom. "I'm going to
speak to him!" impulsively declared Ned.
"I wouldn't," objected Tom, but his chum had already hastened on
ahead, and soon was seen talking excitedly to Mr. Whitford. Tom
sauntered up in time to hear the close of the conversation.
"I'm much obliged to you for your information," said the custom
officer. "but I'm afraid, just as you say your chum felt about it,
that there's nothing in it. This Foger chap may have been bad in the
past, but I hardly think he's in with the smugglers. What I'm
looking for is not a lad who has one airship, but someone who is
making a lot of them, and supplying the men who are running goods
over the border. That's the sort of game I'm after, and if this Andy
Foger only has one aeroplane I hardly think he can be very
dangerous."
"Well, perhaps not," admitted Ned. "But I thought I'd tell you."
"And I'm glad you did. If you hear anything more. I'll be glad to
have you let me know. Here's my card," and thanking the boys for
their interest Mr. Whitford passed on.
Tom and Ned gave the noiseless airship a test the next day. The
craft, which was the stanch Falcon, remodeled, was run out of the
shed, Koku the giant helping, while Mr. Swift stood looking on, an
interested spectator of what his son was about to do. Eradicate, the
old colored man, who was driving his mule Boomerang, hitched to a
wagon in which he was carting away some refuse that had been raked
up in the garden, halted his outfit nearby.
"I say, Massa Tom!" he called, as the young inventor passed near
him, in making a tour of the ship.
"Well, Rad, what is it?"
"Doan't yo'-all want fo' ma an' Boomerang t' gib yo'-all a tow?
Mebby dat new-fangled contraption yo'-all has done put on yo' ship
won't wuk, an' mebby I'd better stick around t' pull yo'-all home."
"No, Rad, I guess it will work all right. If it doesn't, and we get
stuck out a mile or two, I'll send you a wireless message."
"Doan't do dat!" begged the colored man. "I neber could read dem
wireless letters anyhow. Jest gib a shout, an' me an' Boomerang will
come a-runnin'."
"All right, Rad, I will. Now, Ned, is everything in shape?"
"I think so, Tom."
"Koku, just put a little more wind in those tires. But don't pump as
hard as you did the other day," Tom cautioned.
"What happened then?" asked Ned.
"Oh, Koku forgot that he had so much muscle, and he kept on pumping
air into the bicycle wheel tires until he burst one. Go easy this
time, Koku."
"I will, Mr. Tom," and the giant took the air pump.
"Is he going along?" asked Ned, as he looked to see that all the guy
wires and stays were tight.
"I guess so," replied Tom. "He makes good ballast. I wish Mr. Damon
was here. If everything goes right we may take a run over, and
surprise him."
In a little while the noiseless airship was ready for the start.
Tom, Ned and Koku climbed in, and took their positions.
"Good luck!" Mr. Swift called after them. Tom waved his hand to his
father, and the next moment his craft shot into the air. Up and up
it went, the great propeller blades beating the air, but, save for a
soft whirr, such as would be made by the wings of a bird, there was
absolutely no sound.
"Hurrah!" cried Tom. "She works! I've got a noiseless airship at
last!"
"Say, don't yell at a fellow so," begged Ned, for Tom had been close
to his chum when he made his exulting remark.
"Yell! I wasn't yelling," replied Tom. "Oh, I see what happened. I'm
so used to speaking loud on the other airships, that make such a
racket, that I didn't realize how quiet it was aboard the new
Falcon. No wonder I nearly made you deaf, Ned. I'll be careful after
this," and Tom lowered his voice to ordinary tones. In fact it was
as quiet aboard his new craft, as if he and Ned had been walking in
some grass-grown country lane.
"She certainly is a success," agreed Ned. "You could creep up on
some other airship now, and those aboard would never know you were
coming."
"I've been planning this for a long time," went on our hero, as he
shifted the steering gear, and sent the craft around in a long,
sweeping curve. "Now for Waterford and Mr. Damon."
They were soon above the town where the odd man lived, and Tom,
picking out Mr. Damon's house, situated as it was in the midst of
extensive grounds, headed for it.
"There he is, walking through the garden," exclaimed Ned, pointing
to their friend down below. "He hasn't heard us, as he would have
done if we had come in any other machine."
"That's so!" exclaimed Tom. "I'm going to give him a sensation. I'll
fly right over his head, and he won't know it until he sees us. I'll
come up from behind."
A moment later he put this little trick into execution. Along swept
the airship, until, with a rush, it passed right over Mr. Damon's
head. He never heard it. and was not aware of what was happening
until he saw the shadow it cast. Then, jumping aside, as if he
thought something was about to fall on him, he cried:
"Bless my mosquito netting! What in the world--"
Then he saw Tom and Ned in the airship, which came gently to earth a
few yards further on.
"Well of all things!" cried Mr. Damon. "What are you up to now, Tom
Swift?"
"It's my noiseless airship," explained our hero. "She doesn't make a
sound. Get aboard, and have a ride."
Mr. Damon looked toward the house.
"I guess my wife won't see me," he said with a chuckle. "She's more
than ever opposed to airships, Tom, since we went on that trip
taking moving pictures. But I'll take a chance." And in he sprang,
when the two lads started up again. They made quite a flight, and
Tom found that his new motor exceeded his expectations. True, it
needed some adjustments, but these could easily be made.
"Well, what are you going to do with it, now that you have it?"
asked Mr. Damon, as Tom once more brought the machine around to the
odd man's house, and stopped it. "What's it for?"
"Oh, I think I'll find a use for it," replied the young inventor.
"Will you come back to Shopton with us?"
"No, I must stay here. I have some letters to write. But I'll run
over in a few days, and see you. Then I'll go on another trip, if
you've got one planned."
"I may have," answered Tom with a laugh. "Good-bye."
He and Ned made a quick flight home, and Tom at once started on
making some changes in the motor. He was engaged at this work the
next day, when he noticed a shadow pass across an open window. He
looked up to see Ned.
"Hello, Tom!" cried his chum. "Have you heard the news?"
"No, what news? Has Andy Foger fallen out of his airship?"
"No, but there are a whole lot of Custom House detectives in town,
looking for clews to the smugglers."
"Still at it, eh? Shopton can't seem to keep out of the limelight.
Has anything new turned up?"
"Yes. I just met Mr. Whitford. He's back on the case and he has
several men with him. They received word that some smuggled goods
came to Shopton, and were shipped out of here again."
"How, by airship?"
"No, by horse and wagon. A lot of cases of valuable silks imported
from England to Canada, where the duty is light, were slipped over
the border somehow, in airships, it is thought. Then they came here
by freight, labeled as calico, and when they reached this town they
were taken away in a wagon."
"But how did they get here?"
"On the railroad, of course, but the freight people had no reason to
suspect them."
"And where were they taken from the freight station?"
"That's what the customs authorities want to find out. They think
there's some secret place here, where the goods are stored and
reshipped. That's why so many detectives are here. They are after the
smugglers hot-footed."
CHAPTER V
THE RAID
Tom Swift dropped the tool he was using, and came over to where Ned
stood, his chum having vaulted in through the open window.
"Ned," said the young inventor, "there's something queer about this
business."
"I'm beginning to think so myself, Tom. But just what do you mean?"
"I mean it's queer that the smugglers should pick out a place like
Shopton--a small town--for their operations, or part of them, when
there are so many better places. We're quite a distance from the
Canadian border. Say, Ned, where was it that Mr. Foger moved to?
Hogan's alley, or some such name as that; wasn't it?"
"Logansville, this state, was the place. I once saw Tom Snedecker
mail Andy a letter addressed to there. But what has that to do with
it?"
Tom's answer was to turn to a large map on the wall of his shop.
With a long stick he pointed out the city of Logansville.
"That isn't very far from the Canadian border; is it, Ned?" he
asked.
"Say, what are you driving at, Tom? It's right on the border between
New York and Canada, according to that map."
"Well, that's a good map, and you can be sure it is nearly right.
And, look here. There's the town of Montford, in Canada, almost
opposite Logansville."
"Well?"
"Oh, nothing, only I'm going to see Mr. Whitford."
"What do you mean, Tom?"
"I mean that the something queer part about this business may be
explained. They have traces of the smugglers sending their goods to
Shopton to be re-shipped here, to avoid suspicion, probably. They
have a suspicion that airships are used to get the goods over the
Canadian border at night."
"But," broke in Ned, "the government agent said that it was across
the St. Lawrence River they brought them. Montford is quite a
distance from the river. I suppose the smugglers take the goods from
the river steamers, land them, pack them in airships, and fly across
with them. But if you're trying to connect the Fogers, and
Logansville, and Montford with the smugglers, I don't see where it
comes in with the St. Lawrence, and the airships, Tom."
"Forget that part of it for a while, Ned. Maybe they are all off on
airships, anyhow. I don't take much stock in that theory, though it
may be true."
"Just think of the Fogers," went on Tom. "Mr. Foger has lost all his
money, he lives in a town near the Canadian border, it is almost
certain that smuggled goods have been shipped here. Mr. Foger has a
deserted house here, and--see the connection?"
"By Jove, Tom, I believe you're right!" cried his chum. "Maybe the
airships aren't in it after all, and Andy is only making a bluff at
having his repaired, to cover up some other operations in the
house."
"I believe so."
"But that would mean that Mr. Dillon, the carpenter is not telling
the truth, and I can't believe that of him."
"Oh, I believe he's honest, but I think Andy is fooling him. Mr.
Dillon doesn't know much about airships, and Andy may have had him
doing something in the house, telling him it was repair work on an
airship, when, as a matter of fact, the carpenter might be making
boxes to ship the goods in, or constructing secret places in which
to hide them."
"I don't believe it, Tom. But I agree with you that there is
something queer going on in Shopton. The Fogers may, or may not, be
connected with it. What are you going to do?"
"I'm first going to have a talk with Mr. Whitford. Then I'm going to
see if I can't prove, or disprove, that the Fogers are concerned in
the matter. If they're not, then some one else in Shopton must be
guilty. But I'm interested, because I have been brought into this
thing in a way, and I want it sifted to the bottom."
"Then you're going to see Mr. Whitford?"
"I am, and I'm going to tell him what I think. Come on, we'll look
him up now."
"But your noiseless airship?"
"Oh, that's all right. It's nearly finished anyhow, I've just got a
little more work on the carburetor. That will keep. Come on, we'll
find the government agent."
But Mr. Whitford was not at the hotel where he and the other custom
inspectors had put up. They made no secret of their presence in
Shopton, and all sorts of rumors were flying about regarding them.
Mr. Whitford, the hotel clerk said, had gone out of town for the
day, and, as Ned and Tom did not feel like telling their suspicions
to any of the other agents, they started back home.
"I understand they're going to search every house in Shopton, before
they go away," said the clerk to the boys. "They are going to look
for smuggled goods."
"They are; eh?" exclaimed Colonel Henry Denterby, who had fought in
the Civil War. "Search my house; eh? Well I guess not! A man's house
is his castle, sir! That's what it is. No one shall enter mine, no
matter if he is a government official, unless I give him permission,
sir! And I won't do that, sir! I'll be revolutionized if I do! No,
sir!"
"Why, you haven't any smuggled goods concealed, have you, Colonel?"
slyly asked a hotel lounger.
"Smuggled goods? What do you mean, sir?" cried the veteran, who was
something of a fire-eater. "No, sir! Of course not, sir! I pay my
taxes, sir; and all my debts. But no government spy is going to come
into my house, and upset everything, sir, looking for smuggled
goods, sir. No, sir!"
Some were of one opinion, and some another, and there was quite a
discussion underway concerning the rights of the custom officers, as
the boys came out of the hotel.
Likewise there was talk about who might be the guilty ones, but no
names were mentioned, at least openly.
"Let's go past the Foger house on our way back," proposed Ned, and
as he and Tom came in front of it, they heard a pounding going on
within, but saw no signs of Andy or the carpenter.
"They're keeping mighty close," commented Tom.
The two boys worked that afternoon on the new airship, and in the
evening, when Ned came over, Tom proposed that they make another
attempt to see Mr. Whitford.
"I want to get this thing off my mind," spoke the young inventor,
and he and his chum started for the hotel. Once more they passed the
Foger house. It was in darkness, but, as the two lads stood
watching, they saw a flash of a light, as if it came through a crack
in a shutter or a shade.
"Some one is in there," declared Tom.
"Yes, probably Andy is getting his own supper. It's queer he wants
to lead that sort of a life. Well, everyone to their notion, as the
old lady said when she kissed the cow."
Pages:
1 | 2 |
3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10