And, all enthusiasm, Tom began to plan new schemes with his photo telephone.
The young inventor did not forget his promise to help Mrs. Damon. But he could get absolutely no clue to her husband's whereabouts. Mr. Damon had completely and mysteriously disappeared. His fortune, too, seemed to have been swallowed up by the sharpers, though lawyers engaged by Tom could fasten no criminal acts on Mr. Peters, who indignantly denied that he had done anything unlawful.
If he had, he had done it in such a way that he could not be brought to justice. The promotor was still about Shopton, as well groomed as ever, with his rose in his buttonhole, and wearing his silk hat. He still speeded up and down Lake Carlopa in his powerful motor boat. But he gave Tom Swift a wide berth.
Late one night, when Tom and Ned had been working at the new photo telephone, after all the rest of the household had retired, Tom suddenly looked up from his drawings and exclaimed:
"What's that?"
"What's what?" inquired Ned.
"That sound? Don't you hear it? Listen!"
"It's an airship—maybe yours coming back!" cried the young banker.
