That evening Tom and his father discussed the accusation against Mr. Newton, though as they had heard few particulars there was little that could be said except that unbounded faith in him was expressed. Tom was in his office early the next morning—much earlier than usual, in fact, for he wanted to work on a new idea in regard to his plan for stopping trains automatically so that collisions or other accidents would be avoided. It was Tom’s hope that this invention could eventually be applied to his powerful electric locomotive, about which details have been given in another volume. Tom was soon deep in a mass and maze of figures, computing the power needed to stop such an immense force as was represented by his big electric machine. He was considering a wireless attachment to bring automatically into play the stopping force when Eradicate shuffled into the room. The colored man was chuckling. “Well, what is it now, Rad?” asked Tom, not altogether pleased at being interrupted. “Ha! Ha! Dat Koku giant, he sleepin’ yit!” chuckled Rad. “Is that all you come in to tell me—that Koku is sleeping yet?” exclaimed Tom, a bit wrathfully. “He suah sleep!” went on Rad. “I git ahead ob him. I’s de early worm dat tickles de birds dis mawnin’.” “What do you mean—early birds and worms?” and Tom smiled in spite of himself. “No one is going fishing, is there?” “I doan know ef he’s gwin fishin’ or not, Massa Tom, but he’s outside waitin’ to come in.” “Who is?” the young inventor inquired. “Man whut wants to see you.” “Good night, Rad! Why didn’t you say it was a visitor instead of gassing away about Koku sleeping and worms and birds and all that? Though I suppose you’re so proud of having gotten ahead of that giant of mine you can’t help feeling good.” “Das right, Massa Tom!” chuckled Eradicate Sampson. “I done fool dat giant dish yeah mawnin’. But heah’s de letter he done gif me fo’ you,” and the colored man extended a card. Tom accepted the card and holding it to the light read inscribed the name. “Um—Ivan Barsky!” murmured the young inventor, casting his memory back over many names representing many men to see if this one fitted in anywhere. “I don’t seem to recall him,” he said. “He done tole me dat he’s a stranger to you all,” confided Rad. “But he says it’s mighty ’portant business.” “Perhaps it is—to him,” chuckled Tom, who was accustomed to having many strangers call on him for help or to ask him to lend his talents toward perfecting some crazy invention. “Well, Rad, show him in.” “Yas, sah,” and the colored man shuffled out, to return presently ushering in a man at whom Tom shot a quick look. The youth saw before him a man of short stature but powerful build. He had a shock of black, bushy hair, and it was difficult to tell where his hair left off and his beard began, the latter also being black and bushy. “The name Ivan was right,” thought Tom. “He’s a Russian all the way through.”