"It's Ned Newton," Tom answered; "though why he's putting on all this formality I can't fathom."
Jackson went back to the main gate and told the man on guard there to admit Ned, who had so formally sent in his card.
"Ah, Mr. Swift, I believe?" began the bank employee with that suave, formal air which usually precedes a business meeting.
"That is my name," said Tom, with a suppressed grin, and he spoke as stiffly as though to a perfect stranger.
"Mr. Tom Swift, the great inventor?" went on Ned.
"Yes."
"Ah, then I am at the right place. Just sign here, please, on the dotted line," and he held out a blank form, and a fountain pen to Tom, who took them half mechanically.
"Huh? What's the big idea, Ned?" asked the young inventor, unable longer to carry on the joke. "Is this a warrant for my arrest, or merely a testimonial to you. If it's the latter, and concerns your nerve, I'll gladly sign it."
"Well, it's something like that!" laughed Ned. "That's your application for another block of Liberty Bonds, Tom, and I want you, as a personal favor to me, as a business favor to the bank, and as your plain duty to Uncle Sam, to double your last subscription."
Tom looked at the sum Ned had filled in on the blank form, and uttered a slight whistle of surprise.