“Absorbing the vibrations from the exhaust, caused by the exploded gases in the cylinders, does the trick,” Tom told his father.
“But there is enormous pressure to overcome, Tom. You must be sure your muffler will stand the strain. Otherwise she is going to blow out a gasket some day, when you least expect it. Then the sudden resumption of pressure outside the cylinders is going to cause a change in the equilibrium, and you may turn turtle in the air.”
“I’ve thought of that,” said Tom. “At worst it can’t be any more than looping the loop. But I’ll make the muffler doubly strong.”
“Better provide an auxiliary chamber to take care of part of the exhaust in case your main apparatus breaks,” advised the older inventor, and Tom said he would. He did, too, for he valued his father’s expert advice.
Meanwhile he was busy fitting one of his latest aeroplanes with the new motor. The motor he and Mr. Damon had used in their flight was one patched up from an old one. But now Tom was working on a complete new one, made after his revised model, and in which the silencer was an integral part, instead of being built on.
While giving Mary and her mother all the assistance in his power, Tom still found time to work on his new, pet scheme. He had matters now where he did not fear any tampering with his plans, for he had filed away his papers in a safe place, and was making his new machine from memory.
“But if some one got in and had a look at the inside of your silencer he could see how it is constructed, couldn’t he?” asked Ned Newton.
“Yes,” assented Tom, “But they’re not going to get in very easily. Koku sleeps in the experiment shop now, and my machine is there.”
“Oh, well that explains your confidence. I feel sorry for the burglar who makes the attempt, once Koku wakes up. Heard anything more from those Universal people?”
“No, not directly. I understand they are working hard on some new type of plane for army use, but I haven’t bothered my head about them. I’m too much occupied with my own affairs and trying to help Mary.”
“Very strange about Mr. Nestor, isn’t it?”
“Worse than strange,” said Tom. “If this keeps on, and he isn’t heard from, it will be tragic pretty soon.”
“He must be held a prisoner somewhere,” declared Ned.
“It begins to look that way,” assented Tom. “Though who would have an object in that I can’t understand. He had no enemies, as far as is known, and his business affairs were in excellent shape. Unless, as I said, the persons who ran him down are, through fear, keeping him hidden until he recovers, I can’t imagine what has become of him.”
“Well, it certainly is a puzzle,” said Ned. And Tom agreed with his chum.
It was about a week after the disappearance of Mr. Nestor that Mr. Damon came over to see Tom.
“Bless my shoe laces, Tom!” exclaimed the eccentric man, “but you are as busy as ever.” For he found the young inventor in the experiment shop, surrounded by a mass of papers and all sorts of mechanical devices.
“Yes, I’m working a little,” said Tom. “But you are just in time. Come on out, I want to introduce you to Silent Sam.”
“‘Silent Sam!’” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Have you been taking a new trip to the Land of Wonders? Have you brought back some new kind of servant?”
“Not exactly a servant,” said Tom with a laugh, “though I hope Silent Sam will serve me well.”
“‘Silent Sam?’ What does it mean? Is that a joke?” asked the puzzled Mr. Damon.
“I hope it doesn’t turn out a joke,” replied Tom. “But come on, I’ll introduce you to him, Mr. Damon.”
He led the way to one of the big hangars where his various machines of the air were housed. On the way Mr. Damon asked about news of Mr. Nestor, but was told there was none.
Tom Swift opened the big, swinging doors and pulled aside an enveloping canvas curtain. There stood revealed a big aeroplane, of somewhat new pattern, the wings gleaming like silver from the varnish that had been applied. In shape it was not unlike the machines already in use, except that the propellers were of somewhat different design.
The engine was mounted in front, and even with his slight knowledge of mechanics Mr. Damon could tell that it was exceedingly powerful. But it was certain devices attached to the engine that attracted his attention, for they were totally different from any on any other aeroplane, though they bore some resemblance to apparatus on the plane in which Tom and the eccentric man had made the night flight.
“Is this your new machine, Tom?” asked Mr. Damon.
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t see anything of that fellow you spoke of—Silent Sam.”
“This is Silent Sam,” returned Tom, with a laugh. “I’ve named my new noiseless aeroplane—my Air Scout—I’ve named that Silent Sam. Wait until you hear it, or rather, don’t hear it, and I think you’ll agree with me. Silent Sam for Uncle Sam!”
“Good!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my dictionary, but that’s a good name! Does it sail silently, Tom?”
“I’ll let you judge presently. Silent Sam is all ready for his first trial, and I’ll be glad to have you with me. Now, I’ll just—”
Tom suddenly ceased speaking and held up a hand to enjoin silence. Then, while Mr. Damon watched, the young inventor began moving noiselessly toward the rear of the big shed, inside which was his new machine.
CHAPTER XVIII
SUSPICIONS
“Who’s there?” suddenly called Tom, and in such a sharp voice that Mr. Damon started, ready as he was for something unusual.
There was no answer and Tom suddenly switched on all the lights in the shed. Up to then there had been only a few glowing—just enough for him to show the new Air Scout to his friend.
“Who’s there?” asked Tom again, sharply.
“Bless my opera glasses, Tom!” cried Mr. Damon, “but are you seeing things?”
“No; but I’m hearing them,” answered Tom with a short laugh. “Did you think you heard some one moving around near the rudders of Silent Sam, Mr. Damon?”
“No, I can’t say that I did. Everything seems to me to be all right.”
“Well, it doesn’t to me,” went on Tom grimly. “I think there is an intruder in this shed, though how any one could get in when the doors have been locked all day, is more than I can figure out. But I’m going to have a look.”
“I’ll help you,” offered Mr. Damon, and, in the bright glare from many electric lights, the two began a search of the big hangar where the new craft was kept.
But though the young inventor and his friend went around to the rear of the aeroplane, walking in opposite directions, they saw no one, nor did any one try to escape past them.
“And yet I was sure I heard some one in here,” declared Tom, when a search had revealed nothing. “It sounded as if some one were scuffling softly about in rubber-soled shoes, trying to hide.”
“Bless my suspenders!” cried Mr. Damon, “who do you think it could have been, Tom?”
“Who else but some spy trying to get possession of my secrets?” was the answer. “But I guess I was too quick for them. They couldn’t learn much from looking at the outside of my muffler, and it hasn’t been disturbed, as far as I can see.”
“Who would want to gain a knowledge of it in that unlawful way?” asked Mr. Damon.
“Perhaps some of the Universal crowd. They may have been disappointed in perfecting a silent motor themselves, and think stealing my idea would be the easiest way out of it.”
“Do they know you are working on such a model as this Silent Sam of yours, Tom?”
“Yes, I imagine they do. One of the firm members, as you recall, overheard something, I think, that gave them a hint as to what my plans were, though, thanks to the time I fooled the spy, they haven’t any real data to go by, I believe.”
“Let us hope not,” said Mr. Damon.
Tom and he made a thorough search of the big shed, but found no one, nor was there any trace of an int
ruder. Tom notified Jackson, who, in turn, told the guards and watchmen to be on the lookout for any suspicious strangers, but none was seen in the vicinity of the Swift works.
“Well, everything seems to be all right, so we’ll have the test,” remarked Torn, after a further search of the premises. “Now, Mr. Damon, if all goes as I hope you will see what my new machine can do. Strain your ears for a sound, and let me know how much you hear.”
His men helping him, Tom started the new motor which was tried for the first time attached to the new craft. No flight was to be made yet, the motor being tested as though on the block, though, in reality, the craft was ready for instant flight if need be.
Slowly the great propellers began to revolve, and then Tom, taking his place in the cockpit, turned on more power. The new craft—Silent Sam—was made fast so it could not progress even though the propellers revolved at high speed.
“I’m not sending her to the limit,” said Tom to his friend, as the young inventor throttled down the motor. “If I did I’d tear her loose from the holding blocks.”
“Her!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my typewriter, Tom! but I thought Silent Sam was a gentleman aeroplane.
“So he is!” laughed the young man, frankly. “I forgot about ‘Silent Sam.’ Guess I’ll have to say ‘him’ instead of ‘her,’ though the latter sounds more natural. Anyhow what do you think?”
“I think it’s wonderful!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “There the motor is, going at almost full speed, and I can hardly hear a thing. You can the easier believe that when I say that I can hear you talk perfectly well. And I guess you hear me, don’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Tom. “And we don’t have to shout, either. This is the best test ever! I think everything is a success.”
“Are you going to take her aloft, Tom?” the eccentric man went on.
“Yes, now that I’m sure the engine is all right. Will you go for a flight with me?”
“I certainly will! I only wish we could find him, though. I’d go with a better heart.”
“Oh! Mr. Nestor?”
“Yes, I can’t imagine what has become of him. It is almost as if the earth had opened and swallowed him. His disappearance is a great mystery.”
“It surely is,” agreed Tom. “Can’t seem to get any trace of him. But if we hear another cry for help, when we have to land, you can make up your mind I’ll investigate more quickly than I did at first.”
“I agree with you,” said Mr. Damon.
It was nearly evening then, and until it was dark enough for his flight Tom spent the time tuning up the engine and seeing that all was in readiness for the latest test. He had decided not to go aloft while it was light enough for curiosity seekers to note the flight.
Tom rather wished Mary Nestor might have a sail with him in his latest improved silent Air Scout, but the girl was too much occupied at home and in trying to find some trace of her father.
Tom, his father, and Mr. Damon had helped all they could, but there were no results. A private detective had been engaged, but he had no more of a clue than the regular police.
At last it was dark enough for the flight, and Tom and Mr. Damon took their places in the machine. Once more the propellers were turned around, and when the compression had been made, and the spark switched on, around spun the big wooden blades, and the great craft moved over the grass.
On and on and up and up sailed Tom and Mr. Damon, and as they left behind them the shops and the Swift homestead, the two passengers were aware of their almost silent flight. The big aeroplane, the exhaust of which, ordinarily, would have nearly deafened them, was now as silent as a bird.
“Silent Sam for Uncle Sam!” cried Tom in delight, as he went on faster. “I’m sure the government ought to be glad to get this plane for air scout work. It’s a success! A great success!”
“Yes, so it is!” agreed Mr. Damon. “You do well to speak of it so, Tom.”
For, modest as the young inventor was, he felt, in justice to himself, that he must acknowledge the fact that his craft was a success. For it rose and sailed almost as silently as a bat, and a few hundred feet away no one, not seeing it, would have believed a big aeroplane was in motion.
Tom and Mr. Damon flew about twenty miles at a swift pace, and all the fault Tom had to find was that the machine was not as steady in flight as she should have been.
“But I can remedy that with the use of some of dad’s gyroscope stabilizers,” he told Mr. Damon.
They returned to the hangar safely, and the first trip of the new Silent Sam was an assured success.
It was the following day, when Tom was busy in the machine shop installing the gyroscopes spoken of, that Jackson came to tell him there was a visitor to see him.
“Who is it?” asked the young inventor.
“Mr. Gale of the Universal Company,” was the answer.
“I don’t want to see him!” declared Tom quickly. “I have nothing to say to him after his clumsy threats.”
“He seems very much in earnest,” said Jackson. “Better see him, if only for a minute or so.”
“All right, I will,” assented Tom. “Show him in.”
Mr. Gale, as blusteringly bluff as ever, entered the shop. Tom had carefully put away all papers and models, as well as the finished machines, so he had no fear that his visitor might discover some secret.
“Oh, Mr. Swift!” began the president of the Universal Company, when he met the young inventor, “I wish to assure you that what has been done was entirely without our knowledge. And, though this man may have acted as our agent at one time, we repudiate any acts of his that might—”
“What are you talking about?” asked Tom in surprise. “Have I been so impolite as to sleep during part of your talk? I don’t understand what you are driving at.”
“Oh, I thought you did,” said Gale, and he showed surprise. “I understood that the man who—”
“Do you mean there was some one here in the shed last night?” cried the young inventor suddenly, all his suspicions aroused.
“Some one here last night?” repeated Mr. Gale. “No, I don’t refer to last night. But perhaps I am making a mistake. I—er—I—”
“Some one is making a mistake!” said Tom significantly.
CHAPTER XIX
ANOTHER FLIGHT
For perhaps a quarter of a minute Tom Swift and the president of the Universal Flying Machine Company of New York sat staring at one another. Mr. Gale’s face wore a puzzled expression, and so did Tom’s. And, after the last remark of the young inventor, the man who had called to see him said:
“Well, perhaps we are talking at cross purposes. I don’t blame you for not feeling very friendly toward us, and if I had had my way that last correspondence with you would never have left our office.”
“It wasn’t very business-like,” said Tom dryly, referring to the veiled threats when he had refused to sell his services to the rival company.
“I realize that,” said Mr. Gale. “But we have some peculiar men working for us, and sometimes there is so much to do, so many possibilities of which to take advantage, that we may get a little off our balance. But what I called for was not to renew our offer to you. I understand that is definitely settled.”
“As far as I am concerned, it is,” said Tom, as his caller seemed to want an answer.
“Yes. Well, then, what I called to say was that if you are thinking of taking any legal action against us because of the action of that man Lydane, I wish to state that he had absolutely no authority to—”
“Excuse me!” broke in Tom, “but by Lydane do you mean the man who also posed as Bower, the spy?”
“No, I do not. Though I regret to say that Bower once worked for us. He, too, had no authority to come here and get a position. He was still in our service when he did that.”
“So I have suspected,” said Tom. “I realize now that he was a spy, who came here to try to find out for you some of my secrets.”
“Not with my p
ermission!” exclaimed Mr. Gale. “I was against that from the first and I came to tell you so. But Bower really did you no harm.”
“No, he didn’t get the chance!” chuckled Tom. “Nor did that other spy—the one with the gold tooth. I wonder how he liked our mud hole?”
“He was Lydane,” said Mr. Gale. “It is about him I came.”
“You might have saved yourself the trouble,” returned Tom. “I don’t wish to discuss him.”
“But I wish to make sure,” said Mr. Gale, “that what he has done will not come back on us. We repudiate him entirely. His methods we can not countenance. He is too daring—”
“Oh, don’t worry!” interrupted Tom. “He hasn’t done anything to me—he didn’t get the chance, as I guess he’s told you. You needn’t apologize on his account. He did me no harm, and—”
“But I understood from him that—”
“Now I don’t want to seem impolite!” broke in Tom, “nor do I want to take pattern after some of your company’s acts, if not your own. But I am very busy. I have an important test to make for the government, and my time is fully occupied. I am afraid I shall have to bid you good-morning and—”
“But won’t you give me a chance to—” began the president.
“Now, the less we discuss this matter the better!” interrupted Tom. “Lydane, as you call the man with the gold tooth didn’t really do anything to me nor any great harm to any of my possessions, as far as I can learn. His career is a closed book—a book with muddy covers!” and the young inventor laughed.
“Oh, well, if you look at it that way, there is nothing further for me to say,” said Mr. Gale stiffly. “I understood— But hasn’t my partner, Mr. Ware, seen you?” he asked Tom quickly.
“No. And I don’t care to see him.”
“Oh, then that accounts for it,” was the quick answer. “Well, if you regard the matter as closed I suppose we should also. We are not to blame for what Lydane does when he is no longer in our employ, and we repudiate anything he may do, or may have done.”
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