“What—what do you think they’ll do with him?”
It was the question uppermost in Tom’s mind, but he could not bring himself to ask it until his visitor was about to leave.
“Why, that’s hard to say, Tommy,” Mr. Conne answered kindly but cautiously; then after a moment’s silence he added, “I’ll strain a point and tell you something because—well, because you’re entitled to know. But you must keep it very quiet. They hope to learn much more from him than he has told, but they found in his luggage a lot of plans and specifications of the ‘Liberty Motor.’”
“I’m glad,” said Tom simply.
“Of course, we suspected from the letters sent to Schmitt that somebody had such plans, but we had no clue as to who it was. You grabbed more than the dish when you put your hand through that transom, Tommy. You got hold of the plans of the ‘Liberty Motor’ too.”
“I didn’t take your advice,” said Tom ruefully; “I got a good lesson.”
“That’s all right, my boy. You’ve got a brain in your head and you did a good job. It’ll all go to your credit, and the other part won’t be remembered. So you try not to think of it.”
“They won’t kill him, will they?”
“They won’t do anything just at present, my boy. Now put your mind on your work and don’t think of anything else——”
“Have I got my job yet?”