“Why, I thought I might soon be requested to act as best man at a certain ceremony in which the talented Tom Swift was a party of the second part, and a certain Mary Nestor party of the first part aforesaid in manner following, to wit, that is to say, and all the rest of it!” “Cut it out!” laughed Tom, blushing slightly under his tan. “But if I ever do need a best man you’ll be it, Ned.” “Thanks. I hoped as much. Well, when you get all your documents in that chest of secrets it will be worth a pretty penny, Tom.” “Chest of secrets!” laughed Tom. “That’s a good name for it, Ned. Yes, quite a little fortune,” he went on. “I had the chest made secure and heavy on purpose so it couldn’t easily be carried away. Maybe I had it made a bit too heavy. Let’s see if we can shift it out of the middle of the room, Ned.” The chest, nearly filled with documents which Tom had taken from his desk and the office safe, was not locked. The two young men attempted to lift it, but it was beyond their strength. “We’ll have to send for Koku,” remarked Tom. “Though I expect him back any moment. I sent him to call dad here. He may have some papers he wants to put in the chest.” “Hark!” exclaimed Ned, raising a hand for silence. Immediately thereafter a great crash sounded on the roof of the building—a thundering, vibrating and nerve-racking crash, and above the din a voice cried: “Bless my steering wheel! I didn’t want to land here!” CHAPTER II BIG OFFERS TOM SWIFT and Ned Newton glanced at each other. In spite of the apparent gravity of the situation the young men could not help smiling. For well they knew that voice, and they could judge what had happened. “It’s Mr. Damon!” exclaimed Ned. “And he must have made a forced landing from an aeroplane on the roof above us!” added Tom. “Lucky for us he didn’t come through.” “Lucky for him, too, I should say!” Ned made a dash for a stairway leading to the broad, flat roof of the building that housed Tom’s executive offices and also one of the shops of the Swift Construction Company. The young inventor followed his financial manager. Others of the plant—workmen, machinists, and apprentices—were also on their way to the roof. Tom and Ned, going up a private stairway and through a scuttle, were the first to reach the scene. There a curious sight met their eyes. Seated in a small monoplane—a kind invented by Tom Swift himself—was Mr. Wakefield Damon, a friend of the family, a very eccentric but lovable character, forever “blessing” any and everything that took his fancy. “Hello, boys!” he greeted Tom and Ned, blinking his eyes at them in a curious fashion. “Well, for the love of spark plugs!” cried Ned. “What happened?” “Are you hurt?” Tom asked more practically, though a quick glance assured him that the plane was whole, though one landing wheel was slightly out of true, and that the solitary passenger was still in the small cockpit.