“It is,” Tom assented.
Then, for some time, the two boys were silent But at last Tom Halstead, after some intense thinking, burst out almost explosively:
“Machinery? Great Scott!”
“Er—eh?” queried Jed, looking at him in surprise.
“Oh, nothing,” returned the young skipper evasively. “Just forget that you heard me say anything, will you?”
“Sure,” nodded Jed obligingly. Soon after, they drove into the quaint little old seaport, summer-resort town, Nantucket. Tom’s glance alighted on a bicycle shop, still open. Thanking Jed heartily for the lift, Halstead hurried into the shop. He succeeded in renting a bicycle, agreeing that it should be returned in the morning. Then, after some inquiries as to the road, Tom set out, pedaling swiftly.
He got off the road once, but in the end found the Dunstan place all right. At the gateway to the grounds Halstead dismounted. For a few moments he stood looking up at the house, only a part of which was lighted.
“Machinery?” repeated the young skipper to himself, for the twentieth time. “Machinery? Eh? Oh, but we want to know all about that, and, what’s more, we’ve got to know. Machinery! It pieces in with some other facts that have come out to-day.”
Then mindful of the fact that the news he bore was, or should be, of great importance to the distracted master of the house beyond, Tom Halstead, instead of remounting, pushed his wheel along as he walked briskly up the driveway.
“Machinery!” he muttered once more under his breath. He could not rid himself of the magic of that word.