es have no tags or laundry marks, but I'd say they're of
foreign make."

Tom nodded. "He's definitely foreign. He spoke with an accent and he
also muttered something at Chow--I didn't catch it, but it certainly
wasn't in English."

Ames frowned. "I don't like the looks of this, skipper. He may be a
spy."

"Have you notified the police?" Tom asked.

"Right. Also the FBI. They're on the way right now to pick him up. Maybe
they'll be able to worm something out of him."

Tom spent the morning in routine work in the big double office which he
shared with his father in Enterprises' main building. It was equipped
with huge twin modern desks, deep-pile carpeting, and roomy leather
chairs.

Each of the two inventors had his own drawing board, designed to swing
out from the wall at the press of a button. Small scale models of some
of their most famous inventions were also placed about the office,
including a red-and-silver replica of Tom's first rocket ship, the _Star
Spear_; a blue plastic model of the jetmarine in which he had fought a
band of undersea pirates; and also a gleaming silvery model of Tom's
latest, unique space craft, the _Cosmic Sailer_.

Because of his father's absence in Washington, the burden of
administering the vast experimental station now fell on Tom's youthful
shoulders. Telephone calls, letters, and other detailed work occupied
him until noon.

Chow broke in, bringing a lunch tray with milk, a hot chicken sandwich,
and a chocolate eclair. Tom ate hungrily.

"Kind o' peps up the ole supercharger, eh?" said Chow, lingering to
chat.

"Sure does," Tom agreed.

"Wal, jest remember that, an' don't go missin' any meals--or sleep,
either," Chow advised as he gathered up the tray. "A brainy young hombre
like you needs plenty o' rest an' vitamins to keep from burnin' himself
out."

"I'll remember." Tom grinned affectionately as the leathery-faced old
Texan took his leave. The Swifts had first met Chow when they were on an
atomic research expedition in the Southwest. Chow had become so attached
to Tom that he had returned to Shopton with the Swifts as a permanent
employee.

Soon after Chow left the office, the telephone rang. Tom took the call
and had just finished talking with Harlan Ames when Bud came strolling
in.

"Any more news on that nut who jumped you this morning?" the young flier
asked. "Ames told me about it."

"Not yet, but there may be soon," Tom said. "Harlan just phoned and said