Tom Swift and His Airship

  Tom gave a cry.

  "What's the matter?" called Mr. Sharp.

  "I've discovered something," answered Tom, hurrying up to his friend."We're on top of the Middleville Arcade building."

  "What does that mean?"

  "It means that we're not so very far from home, and in the midst of afairly large city. But it means more than that."

  "What?" demanded the balloonist, struck by an air of excitement aboutthe lad, for, as Tom stood in the subdued glow of the lights from oneof the airship's cabin windows, all the others having been darkened asthe storm slackened, his, eyes shone brightly.

  "This is the building where Anson Morse, one of the gang that robbeddad, once had an office," went on Tom eagerly. "That was brought out atthe trial. And it's the place where they used to do some of theirconspiring. Maybe some of the crowd are here now laying low."

  "Well, if they are, we don't want anything to do with that gang," saidMr. Sharp. "We can't arrest them. Besides I've found out that our shipis all right, after all. We can proceed as soon as we like. There isonly a small leak in the gas container. It was the generator machinethat was put out of business by the lightning, and I've repaired it."

  "I want to see if I can get any trace of the rascals. Maybe I couldlearn something from the janitor of the Arcade about them. The janitoris probably here."

  "But why do you want to get any information about that gang?"

  "Because," answered Tom, and, as Mr. Damon at that moment started tocome from the cabin of the airship, the lad leaped forward andwhispered the remainder of the sentence into the ear of the balloonist.

  "You don't mean it!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp, in a tense whisper. Tomnodded vigorously.

  "But how can you enter the building?" asked the other. "You can't dropover the edge."

  "Down the scuttle," answered Tom. "There must be one on the roof, forthey have to come up here at times. We can force the lock, ifnecessary. I want to enter the building and see where Morse had hisoffice."

  "All right. Go ahead. I'll engage Mr. Damon here so he won't followyou. It will be great news for him. Go ahead."

  Under pretense of wanting the help of the eccentric man in completingthe repairs he had started, Mr. Sharp took Mr. Damon back into thecabin. Tom, getting a big screwdriver from an outside toolbox,approached the scuttle on the roof. He could see it looming up in thesemidarkness, a sort of box, covering a stairway that led down into thebuilding. The door was locked, but Tom forced it, and felt justified. Afew minutes later, cautiously flashing his light, almost like a burglarhe thought, he was prowling around the corridors of the officestructure.

  Was it deserted? That was what he wanted to know. He knew the officeMorse had formerly occupied was two floors from the top. Tom descendedthe staircase, trying to think up some excuse to offer, in case he metthe watchman or janitor. But he encountered no one. As he reached thefloor where he knew Morse and his gang were wont to assemble, he pausedand listened. At first he heard nothing, then, as the sound of thestorm became less he fancied he heard the murmur of voices.

  "Suppose it should be some of them?" whispered Tom.

  He went forward, pausing at almost every other step to listen. Thevoices became louder. Tom was now nearly at the office, where Morse hadonce had his quarters. Now he could see it, and his heart gave a greatthump as he noticed that the place was lighted. The lad could read thename on the door. "Industrial Development Company." That was the nameof a fake concern headed by Morse. As our hero looked he saw theshadows of two men thrown on the ground glass.

  "Some one's in there!" he whispered to himself. He could now hear thevoices much plainer. They came from the room, but the lad could notdistinguish them as belonging to any of the gang with whom he had comein contact, and who had escaped from jail.

  The low murmur went on for several seconds.

  The listener could make out no words. Suddenly the low, even mumble wasbroken. Some one cried out "There's got to be a divvy soon. There's nouse letting Morse hold that whole seventy-five thousand any longer. I'mgoing to get what's coming to me, or--"

  "Hush!" some one else cried. "Be quiet!"

  "No, I won't! I want my share. I've waited long enough. If I don't getwhat's coming to me inside of a week, I'll go to Shagmon myself andmake Morse whack up. I helped on the job, and I want my money!"

  "Will you be quiet?" pleaded another, and, at that instant Tom heardsome one's hand on the knob. The door opened a crack, letting out apencil of light. The men were evidently coming out. The young inventordid not wait to hear more. He had a clue now, and, running on tiptoes,he made his way to the staircase and out of the scuttle on the roof.