"Yes, he is an inventor," was the youth's answer.
"Do you know much about him? What are his habits? Does he live near his workshops? Does he keep many servants? Does he"
The unseen questioner suddenly parted the side curtains and peered out at Tom, who stood in the muddy road, close to the automobile. At that moment there came a bright flash of lightning, illuminating not only Tom's face, but that of his questioner as well. And at the sight Tom started, no less than did the man. For Tom had recognized him as one of the three mysterious persons in the restaurant, and as for the man, he had also recognized Tom.
"Ah—er—um—is Why, it's you, isn't it?" cried the questioner, and he thrust his head farther out from between the curtains. My, what a storm!" he exclaimed as the rain increased. "So you know Mr. Swift, eh? I saw you to-day in Mansburg, I think. I have a good memory for faces. Do you work for Mr. Swift? If you do I may be able to"
"I'm Tom Swift, son of Mr. Barton Swift," said Tom as quietly as he could.
"Tom Swift! His son!" cried the man, and he seemed much agitated. "Why, I thought—that is, Morse said Simpson, hurry back to Mans-
