Andy out of the front door, and then the inventor rejoined his son and the others. He held an open letter in his hand.
"This is strange—very strange," he murmured.
"What is it?" asked Tom quickly.
"Why, Mr. Foger has written to me asking to be allowed to sell some of our patents and machines on commission."
"Sell them on commission!" exclaimed his son. "Why does a millionaire like Mr. Foger want to be selling goods on commission? It's only a trick!"
"No, it's not a trick," said Mr. Swift slowly. "He is in earnest. Tom, Mr. Foger has lost his millions. His fortune has been swept away by unfortunate investments, he tells me, and he would be glad of any work I could give him. That's why Andy brought the letter to-night. I just sent him back with an answer."
"What did you say, dad?"
"I said I'd think it over."
"Mr. Foger's millions gone," mused Tom.
"And Andy in there listening to what we said about the city of gold," added Ned. "No wonder he was glad the door was open. He'd go there in a minute, Tom, if he could, and so would Mr. Foger, if he thought he could get rich. He
