nd the mention of the name of Josephus Baxter.

"I think I'll try some of those Murolloas, as they call them, Tom,"
announced Mary, having made her selection of the pastry. "And may I
have another cup of tea?"

"Two if you like," answered the young inventor. "They say tea is good
for the nerves, and you seem to need something, judging by the way you
jumped when that plate fell."

"Oh, Tom, that isn't fair! After the way we had to come down in your
'plane!" objected Mary.

"That's right!" he conceded. "I forgot about that. My fault, entirely!"

Mary smiled, and seemed to have regained her composure. Tom glanced at
her anxiously, not because of what he thought might be the state of her
nerves, but to see if she had sensed anything the two men behind the
screen had said. But the girl gave no indication that her mind had been
occupied with anything more than the selection of her dessert.

"I wonder who they are, and what they meant by that talk," mused Tom,
as the waiter served the Murolloas to him and Mary. "Poor Baxter! It
looks as if he might have more enemies than the fireworks men he
accuses of having taken his valuable formulae. I must see him soon, and
have a talk with him. Yes, I must make a special point to see Josephus
Baxter. But first I'd like to have a glimpse of these men."

Tom's wish in this respect was soon gratified, for before he and Mary
had finished their pastry and tea there was a scraping of chairs back
of the sheltering screen, and the two men, "Mr. Low" and "Mr. High,"
who had finished their meal, came forth.

Tom's judgment as to the statures of the men, based on the quality of
their voices, was not exactly borne out. For it was the big man who had
the high pitched, squeaky voice, and the little man who had the deep,
rumbling tones.

They passed out, without more than a glance at Tom and his companion,
but the young inventor peered at them sharply. As far as he could tell
he had seen neither of them before, though he had an idea of their
identity.

Tom took the chance to make certain this conjecture when Mary left her
seat, announcing that she was going to the ladies' parlor to arrange
her hair, which the run to escape from the rain had disarranged.

"Some storm," Tom observed to the waiter, who came up when the young
inventor indicated that he wanted his check.

"Yes, sir, it came suddenly. Hope you didn't have to change a tire in
it, sir."

"No, my machine isn't that kind," repl