“Were you expecting two?” asked Tom, chuckling. “I guess this is she.”
“I represent the Soviet Government,” was the man’s next astonishing declaration. “By cablegram I was told to expect this flying wonder. You and your crew, Captain, may land. I take charge of the flying boat from now on. It is arranged to send her on to Russia with our own men.”
“To Russia?” gasped Tom Swift. “You represent the Bolshevist Government of Russia?”
“The Soviet Government—yes. The Governor of Reykjavik has agreed to allow the exchange to be made here——”
“Nonsense!” broke in the young inventor. “Either you are out of your mind, or somebody has been fooling you. I built this flying boat myself and I have no intention of selling it to Russia or any other country.”
“What is that? You deny that our representative, Monsieur Polansky, bought this flying boat and cabled me to take it over when it landed here?”
“You are crazy!” exclaimed Tom Swift, in disgust. He beckoned to the uniformed officer in command of the military force. “Do you speak English?” he cried.
“But yes, Monsieur. Speak slowly. I can understand you,” said the officer.
“Then understand me right now,” Tom said, with emphasis. “This fellow who says he represents Russia, has absolutely nothing to do with this flying boat.”
“No? But he has writings from the Governor——”