"I'm sure one of them was the same man who came here that night--the man with the black mustache, who dropped the telegram," said Tom. "I had a pretty good look at him as the auto passed me, and I'm sure it was he. Of course I didn't see who it was that struck me down, but I imagine it was some one of the same gang." "Very likely. Well, Tom, I must do something. I suppose I might telegraph to Mr. Crawford--he will be expecting you in Albany--" Mr. Swift paused musingly. "No, I have it!" he suddenly exclaimed. "I'll go to Albany myself." "Go to Albany, dad?" "Yes; I must explain everything to the lawyers and then he can advise me what to do. Fortunately I have some papers, duplicates of those you took, which I can show him. Of course the originals will be necessary before I can prove my claim. The loss of the model is the most severe, however. Without that I can do little. But I will have Mr. Crawford take whatever steps are possible. I'll take the night train, Tom. I'll have to leave you to look after matters here, and I needn't caution you to be on your guard, though, having got what they were after, I fancy those financiers, or their tools, will not bother us again." "Very likely not," agreed Tom, "but I will keep my eyes open, just the same. Oh, but that reminds me, dad. Did you see anything of a tramp around here while I was away?" "A tramp? No; but you had better ask Mrs. Baggert. She usually attends to them. She's so kind-hearted that she frequently gives them a good meal." The housekeeper, when consulted, said that no tramps had applied in the last few days. "Why do you ask, Tom?" inquired his father. "Because I had an experience with one, and I believe he was a member of the same gang who robbed me." And thereupon Tom told of his encounter with Happy Harry, and how the latter had broken the wire on the motor-cycle. "You had a narrow escape," commented Mr. Swift. "If I had known the dangers involved I would never have allowed you to take the model to Albany." "Well, I didn't take it there, after all," said Tom with a grim smile, for he could appreciate a joke. "I must hurry and pack my valise," went on Mr. Swift. "Mrs. Baggert, we will have an early supper, and I will start at once for Albany." "I wish I could go with you, dad, to make up for the trouble I caused," spoke Tom. "Tut, tut! Don't talk that way," advised his father kindly. "I will be glad of the trip. It will ease my mind to be doing something." Tom felt rather lonesome after his father had left, but he laid out a plan of action for himself that he thought would keep him occupied until his father returned. In the first place he made a tour of the house and various machine shops to see that doors and windows were securely fastened. "What's the matter? Do you expect burglars, Master Tom?" asked Garret Jackson, the aged engineer.