There was no sound heard save that made by the machinery.
"I wonder if he's really here?" whispered Mr. Damon.
"We'll soon find out," answered Tom. "Let's go in."
They entered, and, in pursuance of their plan, Tom and his
friend talked of various foods.
"I think I'd like some of that canned lobster, with French
dressing on," spoke the eccentric man.
"That's away in the back end of the room," said Tom, in a loud
voice. "It's under a lot of boxes."
"Then I'll help you get it out! Bless my frying pan! but I am
very fond of lobster!" exclaimed Mr. Damon, in as natural tones
as was possible under the circumstances.
He and Tom moved cautiously back among the boxes and barrels.
They were glancing about with eager eyes. Tom switched on an
electric light, and, the instant he did so, he was aware of a
movement in a little space formed by one box which was placed on
top, of two others. The lad saw a dark figure moving, as if to
get farther out of sight.
"I've got him!" cried Tom, making a dive for the shadow.
A moment later the young inventor was bowled over, as a dark
figure leaped over his head.
"Catch him, Mr. Damon!" he cried.
"Bless my hatband! I--I--" Mr. Damon's voice ended in a grunt.
He, too, had been knocked down by the fleeing man.
"Look out, Mr.
Pages:
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93