“It wasn’t?”
“No. All my wires were in good shape. It was some outside force that did the damage. I believe some one planted an infernal machine in here, Dad!”
“You do, Tom? Whom do you suspect?”
“I—I hardly know what to say,” was the slow answer. “But I have one man in mind. Where’s Clark?” he asked suddenly, naming a young workman who was much in Tom’s confidence.
“I’ll send him to you,” Mr. Swift offered. “What’s the matter, Tom? What are you going to have Clark do?”
“Some detective work,” was the low answer.
CHAPTER IV
A STRANGE MESSAGE
Tom Swift sank wearily into a chair, facing his damaged talking-picture machine. That it was very seriously damaged was plainer to the eyes of the young inventor than to those even of his father, who was one of three persons aware of what great changes the new machine was destined to bring about. But Tom rallied and from the ruins of his invention saw mentally, rising like the fabled Phoenix from its own ashes, a new and better piece of apparatus.