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CHAPTER III
NED’S SUSPICIONS

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“Have you given any orders about unpacking the new engine that just arrived from Detroit?” asked Mr. Jackson of Tom Swift.

“You mean the twelve cylinder engine for my House on Wheels?” the young inventor inquired.

“That’s the one.”

“Why, no. Koku informed me only a little while ago that it had come. But I couldn’t come out to look at it because that Cunningham chap was in the office. Why, is it being unpacked? And by whom?”

“It is, and by a couple of strange young men who say you just put them on the pay roll yesterday to help with your new invention. They went at the work as though they knew what they were about, but I thought I’d speak to you.”

“I’m glad you did!” exclaimed Tom. “I’ve hired no new hands, young or old, for a long time. I wouldn’t without consulting you.”

“That’s what I thought. But these fellows seemed to know what they were about, and I didn’t like to tell them to lay off.”

“There’s something crooked here!” exclaimed Tom. “This must be looked into. Come on!” he called to Ned Newton.

As the three walked along a corridor that led to one of the main shops where Tom’s latest achievement in a mechanical way was in process of construction, the young inventor closely questioned Mr. Jackson.

“Had they got the motor out of the packing case when you left them?” Tom was anxious to know.

“Not yet. It’s a pretty big piece of machinery and won’t be unpacked in a hurry.”

“Then we may be in time!” Tom ejaculated.

“Time for what?” asked Ned.

“To stop any funny work.”

“Whew!” whistled the financial manager. “As bad as that? Whom do you suspect?”

“You never can tell,” was Tom’s reply. “Ever since I’ve been in this business I’ve had to fight crooks and sharps. And I didn’t like the way Cunningham acted after I turned down his proposition.”

“He sure was mad,” declared Ned. “But do you think he knew anything about your House on Wheels, and might try to put sand in the motor bearings or hire some one to do it?”

“You never can tell,” said Tom again. “Though if it was Cunningham, it was pretty quick work.”

“Crooks very often need to act quickly,” observed Ned.

Tom hurried forward and was the first of the three to enter the shop. In one corner was a heavy case and opening it were two men, the only occupants of the place just then. At the sound of Tom’s entrance they turned, straightened up and looked apprehensive. And well they might, for Ned cried:

“The rat-faced man, Tom! Look! The one who was with Cunningham!”

He pointed to one of the two whose countenance, especially in his appearance of fright, did resemble that of a rat. An instant later he and his companion dropped the tools they had been using and leaped from a near-by open window.

“Stop them!” yelled Tom. But the rascals were too quick, and when the young inventor and his friends reached the casement the two were running across the yard toward the main gate which was, just then, open to let in a truck.

“Stop those men!” yelled Tom, seeing several of his workman, as well as Eradicate and Koku, loitering in the yard.

Not stopping to ask questions, several hands gave chase. The old colored man joined in with a yell of:

“I’ll get ’em fo’ yo’, Massa Tom!”

But his will was better than his deed, for his aged limbs refused to take him over the ground fast enough. As for Koku, the giant would only need to get within hand grasp of the rascals to put a stop to their flight. But, like most big men, Koku was slow in getting started, and the two plotters were beyond the gate before any of their pursuers were within catching distance.

Tom and Ned leaped out of the window also, but reached the gate only in time to see the two plotters disappearing down the road in an auto that, evidently, was in waiting.

“Come, on, Tom! Chase ’em!” cried Ned. “Get out your electric runabout and we’ll overtake ’em!”

“Not a chance,” Tom replied. “My runabout is having its batteries charged and all the other fast cars are away on the other side of the works. No, they’ve got us beat. I only hope they haven’t damaged my new motor.”

“I think they didn’t have a chance to do that,” said Ned encouragingly. “But who were they, Tom?”

Neither the young inventor nor any one else around the shop, including Mr. Jackson, knew. The two men, one of whom looked like a rat, had appeared at the main gate early that morning, it was learned on checking up. They presented an order signed, apparently, by Tom Swift, authorizing them to come in. It was a rule that any but the regular workmen must have such an order to gain entrance to the plant. But this order was forged.

So the two got in and falsely stating that they had come from the Detroit plant of the concern which had made Tom’s new motor, they gained access to the shop where it had been left by a truck from the freight office.

Had it not been that Mr. Jackson saw the men at work and wondered enough about them to tell Tom, they might have carried out their plans, whatever they were. That the plans were based on an intent to work Tom Swift or his possessions some injury, could not be doubted.

A hasty survey, however, showed that the motor had not been taken from its case, so it was not damaged.

“What was the game, Tom?” asked Ned, when orders had been given to admit no more strangers to the plant on any pretext.

“Well, I’ll say Cunningham, as a guess.”

“You mean he put these men up to wrecking your motor after you turned him down?”

“That’s the way it looks to me, Ned. Of course it may have been some of my other enemies. But since you recognized the rat-faced chap, why, it looks suspicious to me.”

“But what would be Cunningham’s object? He didn’t want you to make him a House on Wheels, did he? Or sell him any stock in the enterprise of manufacturing them?”

“No, he didn’t mention the matter. I didn’t even know that he knew I had such a thing in mind, much less almost completed.”

“Well, he found out in some way.”

“Very likely. And when I refused to help him make machinery to turn out infringements on English patented apparatus, he turned nasty and decided to make me sorry.”

“So it looks, Tom. Lucky you caught the plot in time.”

“That’s due to Mr. Jackson’s foresight. It was a narrow escape. Half an hour later and that motor would be fit only for the scrap-heap. Look here!”

Tom held up a small bottle of a very powerful acid—one capable of eating into and corroding the hardest steel.

“I picked that up where one of the scoundrels dropped it,” Tom said. “They evidently wanted to get at some of the valves on the cylinders. A few drops of this acid in each one and the walls would have been so scored that even reboring would not have made them fit to use again.”

“A dirty trick!” exclaimed Ned. “I wish we could have caught them.”

“So do I, for the sake of what may happen in the future.”

Leaving Koku and Eradicate on guard over the new motor, Tom took Ned to where the chassis and body of the House on Wheels were being constructed. It was the first time Ned had seen the new invention and at a glimpse of it, standing in the middle of the shop where it was receiving its final coat of paint, the young manager exclaimed:

“Say, that’s a peach!”

“Glad you like it,” commented Tom.

The house stood up on a framework corresponding to the chassis on which it would later be mounted. Tom opened the back door and a pair of steps, hitherto concealed in a recess, unfolded, let down, and could be used for entering the little dwelling.

There were four rooms within, two containing folding cots that made comfortable beds. One room of those remaining was used as a kitchen. The other was a living room, though if needful the two bedchambers could also be utilized for this purpose, when the cots were folded away.

“And that’s the electric stove, is it?” asked Ned, pointing to the apparatus.

“That’s it. And here’s the pantry, the ice box, and so on,” added Tom, indicating the various conveniences.

“Pretty slick!” was the enthusiastic comment of Ned Newton.

“But where do you work the thing from?”

“The motor goes out there,” and, going to the front of the house, Tom showed where the big machine was to be mounted under a regulation auto hood. “This little compartment will contain the driver’s seat and the controls,” he went on, showing a space divided by a partition from the sleeping quarters.

The kitchen was in the rear of the House on Wheels, and in front of that was the combined sitting and dining room, the sleeping quarters being forward.

“Putting the kitchen in the rear insures the odors being carried away as the machine moves along,” explained Tom.

“Then you’re going to cook as you travel?” asked Ned.

“Sure!” assented Tom.

“That is you are—or some one else,” chuckled Ned.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that my suspicions are confirmed,” went on Ned, with a laugh, and taking care to get beyond Tom’s reach before making his next remark. He added: “I know where the first stop will be for this traveling House on Wheels!”

“Where?” asked Tom, unsuspiciously.

“Honeymoon Lane!” yelled Ned, making a leap to escape his chum.

Tom Swift and his House on Wheels, or, A Trip to the Mountain of Mystery

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