“What’s that?” cried Ned.
“I think it’s my sneak trap!” answered Tom. “I hope I’ve caught him!”
In an instant the shop was flooded with light, and Ned followed Tom on the run around the big Air Monarch, which occupied most of the space. A moment later Ned saw Tom spring upon a man who was caught by one leg in a curious wooden trap, the smooth jaws of which had clamped around the intruder’s ankle.
“Help! Help!” screamed the man, for such he was—a burly, ugly, lowering chap dressed in the greasy clothes of a mechanic.
“You aren’t hurt!” said Tom, pausing in front of the captive and eyeing him. “I set that trap there to catch any one who came in here unauthorized. It isn’t meant to hurt—just to hold you fast. And I’ve got you, Cal Hussy! Got you good!”
“Let me out of here!” snarled the man, trying, without success, to free his foot.
“I will in a minute. But first I’ll find out if you have taken anything,” Tom said coolly. “Here, Ned, search him!” he called to his chum.
Then, while Tom deftly caught Hussy’s hands in a loop of rope drawn tight, Ned went through the intruder’s pockets. Aside from some personal effects, the search revealed nothing.
“You let me go!” snarled the man, with an evil scowl.
“I will if I make sure you haven’t damaged my machine,” went on Tom.