Two hours before the time set for the flying boat’s departure the inventor was astonished by still another application for passage on the _Winged Arrow_. It was a request signed by Rear Admiral Gilder, of the Naval Board, asking Tom Swift to allow a representative of that Board to accompany the party which the Admiral understood was about starting for Iceland. A representative, with full credentials from Washington, was on the way to Shopton. “What do you suppose this means?” Tom demanded of Ned, who was his only confidant in this event. “I have had no correspondence with any Government official about the boat. I know Rear Admiral Gilder by name, but——” “I bet you it is the French looking chap we marked down!” cried Ned eagerly. “You think he represented the Naval Board and was spying about for them?” asked Tom, with much doubt. “Who else could he be?” “He could be almost anybody else,” declared Tom, shaking his head. “He was too foreign looking to please me. And if he is the representative the Admiral sends I shall not let him aboard in any case.” “Maybe the Government will buy the plane at a big price,” suggested Ned, with some eagerness. “Nobody will get a chance to buy it—not yet,” Tom rejoined firmly. “And there is something queer about this request, I tell you. It does not look right. There is no time now to find out about it. We shall be in the air, I hope, before this representative, whoever he is, arrives at Shopton. Not even the Naval Board can delay our departure in this instance. Every hour is precious.” Tom was not entirely correct in his expectation. While the last preparations were being made a powerful motor-car came into the open lot behind the shops from which point the flying boat was about to take its flight. The man who got briskly out of the enclosed tonneau of the car was exactly the individual both Tom and Ned had in mind—the dressy individual with the Charlie Chaplin mustache and diminutive goatee! The man ran through the throng that had gathered to watch the jump-off. He bore several papers in his hands and he shouted to the boys whom he saw in the windows of the prow of the ship. “Monsieur Swift! Monsieur Newton! Hi!” “Hi yourself,” growled Ned. “There’s the fellow, Tom.” Tom gave the stranger a single glance and then spoke to Koku: “Stand by the open door, Koku. Let nobody in over the gangplank but the crew. Understand?” “Me understand, master,” said the giant, and immediately stationed himself at the top of the narrow gangplank near the stern which was about to be drawn inboard. When the stranger with the papers came to the plank the giant waved him commandingly away. The man started to argue. He might as well have argued with a stone post. Koku could not understand a word of English when he felt that way! Nor did any other language sound right, although the man tried French, German, and several other tongues. Koku was deaf.