He started down the road in the storm and darkness. The highway soon became a long puddle of mud, through which he splashed, finding it more and more difficult every minute to push the bicycle in the thick, sticky clay. Above the roar of the wind and the swishing of the rain he heard another sound. It was a steady "puff-puff," and then the darkness was cut by a glare of light. "An automobile," said Tom aloud. "Guess I'd better get out of the way." He turned to one side, but the auto, instead of passing him when it got to the place where he was, made a sudden stop. "Want a ride?" asked the chauffeur, peering out from the side curtains which somewhat protected him from the storm. Tom saw that the car was a large, touring one. "Can I give you a lift?" went on the driver. "Well, I've got my bicycle with me," explained the young inventor. "My chain's broken, and I've got a mile to go." "Jump up in back," invited the man. "Leave your wheel here; I guess it will be safe." "Oh, I couldn't do that," said Tom. "I don't mind walking. I'm wet through now, and I can't get much wetter. I'm much obliged, though." "Well, I'm sorry, but I can hardly take you and the bicycle, too," continued the chauffeur. "Certainly not," added a voice from the tonneau of the car. "We can't have a muddy bicycle in here. Who is that person, Simpson?" "It's a young man," answered the driver. "Is he acquainted around here?" went on the voice from the rear of the car. "Ask him if he is acquainted around here, Simpson." Tom was wondering where he had heard that voice before. He had a vague notion that it was familiar. "Are you acquainted around here?" obediently asked the man at the wheel. "I live here," replied Tom. "Ask him if he knows any one named Swift?" continued the voice from the tonneau, and the driver started to repeat it. "I heard him," interrupted Tom. "Yes, I know a Mr. Swift;" but Tom, with a sudden resolve, and one he could hardly explain, decided that, for the present, he would not betray his own identity. "Ask him if Mr. Swift is an inventor." Once more the unseen person spoke in the voice Tom was trying vainly to recall. "Yes, he is an inventor," was the youth's answer. "Do you know much about him? What are his habits? Does he live near his workshops? Does he keep many servants? Does he--" The unseen questioner suddenly parted the side curtains and peered out at Tom, who stood in the muddy road, close to the automobile. At that moment there came a bright flash of lightning, illuminating not only Tom's face, but that of his questioner as well. And at the sight Tom started, no less than did the man. For Tom had recognized him as one of the three mysterious persons in the restaurant, and as for the man, he had also recognized Tom.