"Well, no, not actively. He's a little too old for that, I'm afraid, though he's anxious enough. But he left for Paris the day he wrote this. He ought to be here now, for he would, most likely, get off ahead of the mail, which, sometimes, seems slower than molasses."
"That's right!" exclaimed Jack, with such energy that Tom asked:
"What's the matter? Haven't you heard from Bessie lately?"
"Oh—that!" murmured Jack, but Tom noticed that his friend blushed under his coat of tan. "Go on," Jack said, a moment later, "tell me about your father. Is the French government going to give him a big order for his stabilizer, now that we got that paper away from that sneak of a Tuessig?"
"Well, I guess dad's trip here has something to do with his aeroplane device, but he hints in his letter about something else. He said he didn't want to write too much for fear a spy might get hold of the information. But you know my father is an expert on ordnance matters and big guns, as well as in other lines of fighting."
"That's so, Tom. He certainly is a wonder when it comes to inventing things. But what do you suppose his new mission is?"
"I can't quite guess. But it is for the service of the Allies."
"And you say he's on his way to Paris now?"
"He ought to be there by this time," Tom answered. "I'm going to see if I can't get permission to send a message through, and have an answer from dad. Maybe he might get out here to see us."
"Or we could go in and meet him."