When the young inventor awoke the next morning, Mrs. Baggert told him that his father and Mr. Damon had risen nearly an hour before, had partaken of a hearty breakfast, and departed.
"They told me to tell you they were at the bank," said the housekeeper.
"Did Mr. Pendergast stay all night?" inquired Tom.
"I heard some one go away about two o'clock this morning," replied the housekeeper. "I don't know who it was."
"They must have had a long session," thought Tom, as he began on his bacon, eggs and coffee. "I'll take a run down to the bank in my electric in a little while."
The car was still in rather crude shape, outwardly, but the mechanism was now almost perfect. Tom charged the batteries well before starting out.
The youth had no sooner come in sight of the old Shopton bank, to distinguish it from the Second National, which Mr. Foger had started, than he was aware that something unusual had occurred. There was quite a crowd about it, and more persons were constantly arriving to swell the throng.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom, of one of the few police officers of which Shopton boasted, though the lad did not need to be told.
"Run on the bank," was the brief answer. "It's failed."
Tom felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow, he had hoped that his father and his friends might have been able to stave off ruin. As he approached nearer Tom was made aware that the crowd was in an ugly mood.