“He is accused by Renwick Fawn of the theft of a good many thousands of dollars’ worth of Liberty Bonds,” answered Ned. “Dad didn’t have time to give me all the story over the telephone, but several times before this he has spoken to me about mysterious thefts of these securities from the National Investment Company, where he is employed, you know. Dad spoke of these thefts, and even mentioned that the firm had engaged a private detective to try to trace the thief. Now, like a bombshell, father is accused and arrested.” “It’s all a mistake, of course,” said Tom. “Oh, Operator, get me Main 1576, please, and in a hurry if you can. Of course it is all a mistake,” and he resumed his talk to his chum. “But think what the accusation means to dad, to mother and to me even though it is afterward proved—as it will be—that my father had nothing to do with the matter!” burst out Ned. “He is disgraced forever because that sneak Fawn thinks he knows it all! Oh, there has been dirty work all right!” “Who is this fellow Fawn?” Tom wanted to know. “A new manager they got at the Investment Company,” replied Ned. “I have heard dad speak of him. He’s one of these efficiency birds—everything done by clockwork, plenty of pep, a go-getter, and all that rot! I’d like to go get him! But, oh, the disgrace to dad!” “Don’t worry about that!” exclaimed Mr. Swift. “No one who knows your father can ever think him disgraced, even if he were arrested for the theft of all the Liberty Bonds Uncle Sam ever put out!” “Right-o!” cried Tom. “Oh, hello, is this Mr. Plum’s office? Yes, I want to talk to him—very important—Tom Swift speaking!” The name of Swift worked like magic, even in such a ceremonious office as that of Mr. Plum, and a moment later Tom was pouring out a quick statement of the matter, suggesting that the lawyer hold himself in readiness to go with Tom and Ned to the office of the investment concern where, it appeared, Mr. Newton was being held in custody, preparatory to being arraigned before a police officer for commitment to a cell. “I’ll call for you in my electric runabout,” finished Tom. “What’s that—can it go? Mr. Plum, when that car was built it was the speediest one on the road, and it has never yet been passed! Yes, we’ll be there in a jiffy!” Turning to his chum as he hung up the receiver, Tom remarked: “Now come on, Ned, we’ll get a move on. But we’ll take a few sinews of war with us!” Quickly he opened the big chest he had locked, and from an inner compartment in it he extracted a sheaf of crisp bills whose yellow color told of high denominations. “They always have to accept bail in these cases, Ned,” remarked the young inventor, “and cash always talks. Your dad will be able to sleep at home to-night.” “Thanks,” murmured Ned, and, though he did not say it, he had had a horrible vision of his beloved father spending the night in a cell like some convicted felon.