Tom Swift and His Photo Telephone Part 29

"Yes, he hung up the receiver."

"See if you can't get him back," suggested the young inventor.

"Ask Central to ring that number again. We'll be there in a jiffy.

Maybe he'll come to the telephone again. Or he may even call up his partners and tell them the game is working his way. Try to get him back, Mrs. Damon."

"I will," she said.

And, as she hurried back to the instrument, Tom and Ned shot up toward the blue sky in an endeavor to capture the man at the other telephone.

"And to think it was Peters!" cried Tom into Ned's ear, shouting to be heard above the roar of the motor exhaust.

"I thought he'd turn out to be mixed up in the affair," said Ned.

"Well, you were right. I was off, that time," admitted Tom, as he guided his powerful craft above the trees. "I was willing to admit that he had something to do with Mr. Damon's financial trouble, but as for kidnapping him--well, you never can tell."

They drove on at a breath-catching pace, and it seemed hardly a minute after leaving Mrs. Damon's house before Tom called:

"There's the building where the telephone is located."

"And now for that rascal Peters!" cried Ned.

The airs.h.i.+p swooped down, to the great astonishment of some workmen nearby.

Hardly had the wheels ceased revolving on the ground, as Tom made a quick landing, than he was out of his seat, and running toward the telephone. He knew the place at once from having heard Ned's description, and besides, this was one of the places where he had installed his apparatus.

Into the store Tom burst, and made a rush for the 'phone booth. He threw open the door. The place was empty!

"The man--the man who was telephoning!" Tom called to the proprietor of the place.

"You mean that big man, with the tall hat, who was in there so long?"

"Yes, where is he?"

"Gone. About two minutes ago."

"Which way?"

"Over toward Shopton, and in one of the fastest autos that ever scattered dust in this section."

"He's escaped us!" said Tom to Ned. "But we'll get him yet! Come on!"

"I'm with you. Say, do you know what this looks like to me?"

"What?"

"It looks as if Peters was scared and was going to run away to stay!"

CHAPTER XXIII

ON THE TRAIL

Such a crowd had quickly gathered about Tom's airs.h.i.+p that it was impossible to start it. Men and boys, and even some girls and women, coming from no one knew where, stood about the machine, making wondering remarks about it.

"Stand back, if you please!" cried Tom, good-naturedly. "We've got to get after the fellow in the auto."

"You'll have hard work catching him, friend, in that rig,"

remarked a man. "He was fracturing all the speed laws ever pa.s.sed.

I reckon he was going nigh onto sixty miles an hour."

"We can make a hundred," spoke Ned, quietly.

"A hundred! Get out!" cried the man. "Nothing can go as fast as that!"

"We'll show you, if we once get started," said Tom. "I guess we'll have to get one of these fellows to twirl the propellers for us, Ned," he added. "I didn't think, or I'd have brought the self-starting machine," for this one of Tom's had to be started by someone turning over the propellers, once or twice, to enable the motor to begin to speed. On some of his aircraft the young inventor had attached a starter, something like the ones on the newest autos.

"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, as Tom looked to the priming of the cylinders.

"I'm going to get on the trail of Peters," he said. "He's at the bottom of the whole business; and it's a surprise to me. I'm going to trail him right down to the ground now, and make him give up Mr. Damon and his fortune."

"But you don't know where he is, Tom."

"I'll find out. He isn't such an easy man to miss--he's too conspicuous. Besides, if he's just left in his auto we may catch him before he gets to Shopton."

"Do you think he's going there?"

"I think so. And I think, Ned, that he's become suspicious and will light out. Something must have happened, while he was telephoning, and he got frightened, as big a bluff as he is. But we'll get him. Come on! Will you turn over the propellers, please?

I'll show you how to do it," Tom went on to a big, strong man standing close to the blades.

"Sure I'll do it," was the answer. "I was a helper once at an airs.h.i.+p meet, and I know how."

"Get back out of the way in time," the young inventor warned him.

"They start very suddenly, sometimes."

"All right, friend, I'll watch out," was the reply, and with Tom and Ned in their seats, the former at the steering wheel, the craft of the air was soon throbbing and trembling under the first turn, for the cylinders were still warm from the run from Mrs.

Damon's house.

The telephone was in an outlying section of Waterford--a section devoted in the main to shops and factories, and the homes of those employed in various lines of manufacture. Peters had chosen his place well, for there were many roads leading to and from this section, and he could easily make his escape.

"But we'll get after him," thought Tom, grimly, as he let the airs.h.i.+p run down the straight road a short distance on the bicycle wheels, to give it momentum enough so that it would rise.

Then, with the tilting of the elevation rudder, the craft rose gracefully, amid admiring cheers from the crowd. Tom did not go up very far, as he wanted to hover near the ground, to pick out the speeding auto containing Peters.

But this time luck was not with Tom. He and Ned did sight a number of cars speeding along the highway toward Shopton, but when they got near enough to observe the occupants they were disappointed not to behold the man they sought. Tom circled about for some time, but it was of no use, and then he headed his craft back toward Waterford.