"Perhaps it's Eradicate Sampson," suggested Mr. Swift, referring to the
eccentric colored man who was employed by the inventor and his son to
help around the place. "Very likely it was Eradicate, Tom."

"I don't think so," was the lad's answer. "He went to the village a
while ago, and said he wouldn't be back until late to-night. He had to
get some medicine for his mule, Boomerang, who is sick. No, it wasn't
Eradicate; but some one was under that window, trying to hear what we
said."

As he spoke in guarded tones, Tom went softly to the casement and looked
out. He could observe nothing, as the night was dark, and the new moon,
which had been shining, was now dimmed by clouds.

"See anything?" asked Mr. Gunmore as he advanced to Tom's side.

"No," was the low answer. I can't hear anything now, either."

"I'll go speak to Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper," volunteered Mr. Swift.
"Perhaps it was she, or she may know something about it."

He started from the room, and as he went Tom noticed, with something of
a start, that his father appeared older that night than he had ever
looked before. There was a trace of pain on the face of the aged
inventor, and his step was lagging.

"I guess dad needs a rest and doctoring up," thought the young inventor
as he turned the electric chandelier off by a button on the wall, in
order to darken the room, so that he might peer out to better advantage.
"I think he's been working too hard on his wireless motor. I must get