"I might have known," admitted the man. "But are you going to put them on the market? If you are I'd like to get one. I want the fastest car going, and you seem to have it." "I hadn't thought of manufacturing them for sale," said the young inventor. "If I do, I'll let you know." "I wish you would. My! I had no idea you could beat me, but you did--fair and square." There was some more talk, and then Mr. Layton started on, after exacting from Tom a further promise to let him know if any electrics were to be made for sale. "You certainly have a wonderful car," complimented Ned, as he and his chum took a short cut to Shopton. "Well, I'm not quite satisfied with it," declared Tom. "Why not?" "Well, I've set a hundred miles an hour as my limit. I didn't make but eighty to-day. I've got to have more speed if I go up against the crowd that will race for the touring club's prize." "Can you make a hundred miles?" "I think so. I've got to change my gears, though, and use heavier fuses. I was afraid every second that one of the fuses would melt, and leave me stranded. But they stood pretty well. Of course, when the car, geared as it is now, has been run a little longer it will go faster, but it won't come up to a hundred miles an hour. That's what I want, and that's what I'm going to get," and the lad looked very determined. Ned was taken to the bank, and, as Tom turned his machine around, to go home, he saw, standing on the steps of the new bank, which was almost across the street from the old one, Andy Foger, and the bully's father. The red-haired lad laughed at Tom's rough looking car, and said something to his parent, but Mr. Foger did not notice Tom. Not that this caused our hero any uneasiness, however. But, as he swung away from the bank, he saw, coming up the street a figure that instantly attracted his attention. It was that of Mr. Berg, and Tom at once recalled the night he had pursued the submarine agent, and torn loose his watch charm. Mr. Berg was evidently going to enter the new bank, for, at the sight of the former agent, Mr. Foger descended the steps, and went to meet him. Tom, however, had decided upon a plan of action. He steered his machine in toward the curb, ran up the steel wind-shield, and called: "Mr. Berg!" "Eh? What's that?" asked the agent, in some surprise. Then, as he caught sight of Tom, and recognized him, he added: "I'm very busy now, my young friend. You'll have to excuse me." "I won't detain you a moment," went on Tom, casually. "I have something of yours that I wish to return to you." "Something of mine?" Mr. Berg was evidently puzzled. He approached the electric car, in spite of the fact that Mr. Foger was calling him. "Something of mine? What is it?" "This!" exclaimed Tom suddenly, extending the compass watch charm, which he always carried with him of late. "That! Where did you get that. I lost it--" Mr. Berg paused in some confusion.