Trouble Starts
The fact that he was stopped by a
footpad smote Tom Swift’s mind as not a particularly
surprising adventure. He had heard that several
of that gentry had been plying their trade about the
outskirts of the town. To a degree he was prepared
for this sudden event.
Then there flashed into Tom’s
mind the thought of what Mr. Richard Bartholomew had
said regarding the spy he believed had followed him
from the West. Could it be possible that some
hired thug sent by Montagne Lewis and his crooked
crowd of financiers considered that Tom Swift had
obtained information from the president of the H.
& P. A. that might do his employers signal service?
Tom Swift had fallen in with many
adventures—and some quite thrilling ones—since,
as a youth, he was first introduced to the reader
in the initial volume of this series, entitled “Tom
Swift and His Motor Cycle.” His first experiences
as an inventor, coached by his father, who had spent
his life in the experimental laboratory and workshop,
was made possible by his purchase from Mr. Wakefield
Damon, now one of his closest friends, of a broken-down
motor cycle.
Through a series of inventions, some
of them of a marvelous kind, Tom Swift, aided by his
father, had forged ahead, building motor boats, airships,
submarines, monoplanes, motion picture cameras, searchlights,
cannons, photo-telephones, war tanks. Of late,
as related in “Tom Swift Among the Fire Fighters,”
he had engaged in the invention of an explosive bomb
carrying flame-quenching chemicals that would, in
time, revolutionize fire-fighting in tall buildings.
The matter that Mr. Richard Bartholomew,
the railroad magnate, had brought to Tom’s and
his father’s attention had deeply interested
the young inventor. Thought of the electric locomotive,
the development of which the railroad president stated
was the only salvation of the finances of the H. &
P. A., had so held Tom’s attention as he walked
along the street that being stopped in this sudden
way was even more startling than such an incident
might ordinarily have been.
Tom was a muscular young fellow; but
a club held over one’s head by a burly thug
would have shaken the courage of anybody. Dark
as it was under the archway the young fellow saw that
the bulk of the man was much greater than his own.
“That’s right, sonny,”
said the stranger, in a sneering tone. “You
got just the right idea. When I say ’Stick
’em up’ I mean it. Never take a chance.
Ah—ah!”
The fellow ripped open Tom’s
overcoat, almost tearing the buttons off. Another
masterful jerk and his victim’s jacket was likewise
parted widely. He did not lower the club for an
instant. He thrust his left hand into the V-shaped
parting of the young fellow’s vest.
It was then that Tom was convinced
of what the fellow was after. He remembered the
notes he had made regarding the contract that was
to be signed on the morrow between the Swift Construction
Company and President Richard Bartholomew of the H.
& P. A. Railroad. He remembered, too, the figure
he thought he had seen in the dark porch of the house
as he so recently left it.
Mr. Bartholomew had considered it
very possible that he was being spied upon. This
was one of the spies—a Westerner, as his
speech betrayed. But Tom was suddenly less fearful
than he had been when first attacked.
It did not seem possible to him that
Mr. Bartholomew’s enemies would allow their
henchman to go too far to obtain information of the
railroad president’s intentions. This fellow
was merely attempting to frighten him.
A sense of relief came to Tom Swift’s
assistance. He opened his lips to speak and could
the thug have seen his face more clearly in the dark
he would have been aware of the fact that the young
inventor smiled.
The fellow’s groping hand entered
between Tom’s vest and his shirt. The coarse
fingers seized upon Tom’s wallet. Nobody
likes to be robbed, no matter whether the loss is
great or small. There was not much money in the
wallet, nor anything that could be turned into money
by a thief.
These facts enabled Tom, perhaps,
to bear his loss with some fortitude. The highwayman
drew forth the wallet and thrust it into his own coat
pocket. He made no attempt to take anything else
from the young inventor.
“Now, beat it!” commanded
the fellow. “Don’t look back and
don’t run or holler. Just keep moving—in
the way you were headed before. Vamoose.”
More than ever was Tom assured that
the man was from the West. His speech savored
of Mexican phrases and slang terms used mainly by
Western citizens. And his abrupt and masterly
manner and speech aided in this supposition.
Tom Swift stayed not to utter a word. It was
true he was not so frightened as he had at first been.
But he was quite sure that this man was no person to
contend with under present conditions.
He strode away along the sidewalk
toward the far corner of the wall that surrounded
this estate. Shopton had not many of such important
dwellings as this behind the wall. Its residential
section was made up for the most part of mechanics’
homes and such plain but substantial houses as his
father’s.
Prospering as the Swifts had during
the last few years, neither Tom nor his father had
thought their plain old house too poor or humble for
a continued residence. Tom was glad to make money,
but the inventions he had made it by were vastly more
important to his mind than what he might obtain by
any lavish expenditure of his growing fortune.
This matter of the electric locomotive
that had been brought to his attention by the Western
railroad magnate had instantly interested the young
inventor. The possibility of there being a clash
of interests in the matter, and the point Mr. Bartholomew
made of his enemies seeking to thwart his hope of keeping
the H. & P. A. upon a solid financial footing, were
phases of the affair that likewise concerned the young
fellow’s thought.
Now he was sure that Mr. Bartholomew
was right. The enemies of the H. & P. A. were
determined to know all that the railroad president
was planning to do. They would naturally suspect
that his trip East to visit the Swift Construction
Company was no idle jaunt.
Tom had turned so many fortunate and
important problems of invention into certainties that
the name of the Swift Construction Company was broadly
known, not alone throughout the United States but
in several foreign countries. Montagne Lewis,
whom Tom knew to be both a powerful and an unscrupulous
financier, might be sure that Mr. Bartholomew’s
visit to Shopton and to the young inventor and his
father was of such importance that he would do well
through his henchmen to learn the particulars of the
interview.
Tom remembered Mr. Bartholomew’s
mention of a name like Andy O’Malley. This
was probably the man who had done all that he could,
and that promptly, to set about the discovery of Mr.
Bartholomew’s reason for visiting the Swifts.
Without doubt the man had slunk about
the Swift house and had peered into one of the library
windows while the interview was proceeding. He
had observed Tom making notes on the scratch pad and
judged correctly that those notes dealt with the subject
under discussion between the visitor from the West
and the Swifts.
He had likewise seen Tom thrust the
paper into his wallet and the wallet into his inside
vest pocket. Instead of dogging Mr. Bartholomew’s
footsteps after that gentleman left the Swift house,
the man had waited for the appearance of Tom.
When he was sure that the young fellow was preparing
to walk out, and the direction he was to stroll, the
thug had run ahead and ensconced himself in the archway
on this dark block.
All these things were plain enough.
The notes Tom had taken regarding the offer Mr. Bartholomew
had made for the development of the electric locomotive
might, under some circumstances, be very important.
At least, the highwayman evidently thought them such.
But Tom had another thought about that.
One thing the young inventor was convinced
about, as he strode briskly away from the scene of
the hold-up: There was going to be trouble.
It had already begun.