“One side, please! We’re in a hurry to get back to our ship!”
But the two officers did not move, and one drew from its scabbard an ugly, curved sword.
“Look out, Tom,” warned Ned in a low voice. “This looks like trouble!”
“It will be of their making, not ours!” snapped Tom. “What’s the idea?” he went on, for he was anxious to start off again. “Get out of the way!” he ordered the man with the drawn sword. “Tell him he’s making a mistake,” he said to the man who had translated the request for stamps and cards.
There was a lively interchange of words between the officers and the interpreter, and the latter, with a shrug of his shoulders, turned to Tom and Ned, saying:
“You cannot go!”
“Can’t go where?”
“Away from here. You are under arrest!”
“Under arrest? Nonsense!” yelled Tom Swift. “What for?”
“It seems you have no official permission to land your airship near the city,” the interpreter answered. “You must be taken to jail!”